


The Prisoner

by corvidae9



Series: Switchverse [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, sorting AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-05
Updated: 2007-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: There's a killer on the loose and a pack of monsters surrounding the castle. Life around Harry never gets easier.  (Harry, Draco, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Pansy, Hannah, Vince, Greg, Anthony & Daphne)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YAY!! [](https://juice817.livejournal.com/profile)[juice817](https://juice817.livejournal.com/) is the best beta EVER. ((CHOOCHOO!))

20 Aug, 1993

"I have to admit, Minerva. I'm looking forward to meeting James and Lily's boy," Remus said quietly, his cup clinking against his saucer as he set it down. His attention remained on the Deputy Headmistress briefly before returning to careful contemplation of his hands. It didn't matter how many times Remus had seen her in Muggle clothing or how long he had been an adult entitled to refer to her as 'Minerva' rather than 'Professor McGonagall', it was still surreal.

Minerva hazarded a small smile.

"Ahh. Our Harry."

Remus recognized that tone right away and snickered, sitting back and leaning his chin on his hand.

"I see. More a chip off of James' block than Lily's, then?"

"More than it may seem at first, I'm afraid," she sighed, adjusting the square frames on her nose. "The way he and the Malfoy boy run about the school, sometimes the comparison is as inevitable as it is terrifying."

"I'm sorry," said Remus, his head snapping up abruptly. "I thought I heard-- did you say 'Malfoy'?"

"That, Remus, is exactly what I said," said Minerva, taking a sip of her own tea.

Remus swallowed hard. "So he was Sorted Slyth-"

"Hufflepuff," Minerva interrupted, gently chiding. "As was the Malfoy boy. It made all the papers two years ago, Remus. Honestly."

"I'm afraid I haven't been much for Wizarding society as of late, Minerva. I'd say I was surprised Albus found me, but we both know that would be a lie."

It was Minerva's turn to look abashed.

"Of course. I forget sometimes to factor in the pigheadedness of the Wizarding population at large. Do forgive me."

"Don't," said Remus, waving it off. "Nothing for me here anyway. Muggle Patagonia or Wizarding, it's all the same."

Minerva cracked a tentative smile. "Were you really in Patagonia?"

"No," Remus snorted a laugh. "It only felt like it."

Minerva was caught between a laugh and a sigh of regret, then she went quiet again for a long moment before speaking again.

"You have heard--"

"About Sirius?" Remus asked, not bothering to hide the old hurt in his voice. "I've heard. It was all anyone talked about when I went into Diagon Alley today."

"Then you know he's expected to surface at the castle sooner or later."

"I know," said Remus quietly into his teacup.

"I'm ready."

###  
###

1 Sep, 1993

"Potter. _Potter_ ," said a voice that seemed like it was disembodied, yet somewhere nearby and familiar. Harry's head was a messy haze, permeated with a a sense of despair, and he couldn't put a finger on what or why.

"Sodding hell," said another. A third chimed in, higher in pitch than the rest.

"What _was_ that thing?"

Harry managed to crack open one eye and found himself face to face with Hermione. Err... sort of, since she seemed to be sideways. Then he realized that the surface pressed to his cheek was the seat he'd been sitting on... which made him the likely candidate for one who was sideways.

"He's coming around!" she said, grinning hugely, patting his arm and saying decisively, "You're going to be just fine now."

Draco's face suddenly came into focus over her shoulder looking eternally unimpressed while passing Harry's glasses forward.

"In need of attention, then?"

"Ngh," was all Harry managed as he pushed himself up carefully. "Wh' happened?"

"You passed out, you great pansy," said Draco, cut off by a telltale stomp and a muttered, "Ow! Hey!"

"It was a Dementor," said a new voice over the jostling noises, obviously that of an adult. "One of the guards of Azkaban, and there is no bloody reason for them to be on the train."

Harry slipped his glasses on and the man came into focus. Graying though he didn't give the appearance of being old enough to do so, his oddly amber brown eyes gained a hint of humor that seemed more a more natural expression. It made Harry wish he had something more intelligent to say than, "Wha-?"

"Here," the man said, pressing a chunk of something into his hand. "Eat this. It will help with the after effects of the Dementor. I'm going to check on the rest of the children."

Blearily, Harry blinked at the object, further confused as the man's hand descended upon his head and ruffled his hair.

"It's chocolate. Best remedy yet." He then produced a bag from his coat pocket and handed it to Hermione, gesturing around the compartment as he continued. "I'll be back in a bit."

Harry watched him go, Pansy not far behind. He was still not quite altogether in his head but getting there; there enough to startle as Ron flopped into the seat next to him.

"That was creepy," Ron breathed. "Glad you're alright, though. Going to eat that?"

"Yes," said Hermione pointedly, pulling a small lump wrapped in cellophane from the bag she'd been given and shoving it at Ron. "He is."

Draco sat heavily in the seat across from Harry, propping his feet up and on the bench across next to Harry's hip, clearly smug that his legs could now reach to do so (barely) where Harry's could not. He held up his own chocolate and cast an eyebrow in Harry's direction. Harry shrugged and took a bite of his own candy, finding that he was immediately flooded with a returning sense of well-being, giving him the wherewithal to roll his eyes at Draco in return and mutter, "What?"

"Nah, nothing," Draco smirked, the exchange ending there as Pansy re-entered the compartment in a rush.

"Lupin's the new Defense Aganst the Dark Arts professor, which explains how he knew what to do about that thing," she said frowning, hands on hips. "Chocolate?"

Hermione took a seat next to Draco and held up another wrapped bit of chocolate.

"They're called Dementors and I have no problem with chocolate as the remedy of choice to their effects."

"Amen," said Pansy, dropping gracelessly next to Hermione and taking the proffered chocolate. "Harry, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry said automatically, though for the most part he was. "Were you-- err. Who was screaming?"

The compartment went quiet and from the set of Hermione's furrowed brow, Harry was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

###

"I'm _fine_ ," Harry insisted as they stepped off of the train. Hermione's mouth was set in a permanent frown and Ron was busy scanning the crowd, though what he was looking for exactly was a mystery to Harry.

"He's fine, Granger. It's his talent," agreed Draco, laughing as he avoided Pansy's resultant swatting hand.

"Alright," said Hermione, sounding unconvinced though she was still leading the way to an unoccupied carriage. "It's just--"

A larger boy slammed into her shoulder, pushing past her to vault into the carriage. She turned to face him, indignant, and found herself face to face with Marcus Flint.

"No Mudbloods allowed," he sneered. Pucey snickered, shoved past and climbed in as well.

Before Hermione or anyone around her could react, Tracey Davis' laughter rung out as she strolled past, elbows locked with Lavender. Tracey covered her mouth with her free hand, eyebrows high and turned to stage whisper to Lavender.

"Did you hear? Granger's been lying about her blood status! Can you imagine the nerve?"

Hermione stood open-mouthed as they walked away, Lavender's faux shock of laugher trailing along behind her.

"That's not good," muttered Pansy. The carriage pulled away and another took its place.

"He's one to be proud of his inbreeding, seeing as he's back this year for yet another bout with seventh year," scowled Ron, staring daggers at the retreating carriage.

"Hermione?" said Harry, taking her elbow and ducking his head.

"I'm as fine as you are, Harry," she said, forcing her chin up and pulling her arm away. "It had to happen some time. Let's just go." With that, she climbed into the carriage at hand. Harry, Ron, Pansy, Neville and Draco followed, though they rode most of the way in silence.

###

"Let me get this straight," said Ron as was his wont. He peered at Harry, who had pinched the bridge of his nose, shut his eyes and let his head thump back against the bookshelf behind him. "Sirius Black is your godfather, and V-- You Know Who's minion, _and_ he's probably out to kill you. And he's Malfoy's cousin."

"Yes, Weasley," said Draco, sitting forward in direct counterpoint to Harry. "Point for you."

"That's not good," muttered Hermione, frowning worriedly at both Harry and Ron.

"I'd worry about yourself first," said Hannah, looking up as several older Slytherins with no business in their corner of the library drifted past, looking for all the world like sharks. "You're not exactly anyone's favorite Slytherin right now."

Hermione shrank further into her seat. "I know," she said, and though her voice was smaller than it usually was, her features were set in a moue of dogged determination. "I'll be alright."

Hannah sat in the seat nearest Hermione as the rest of the group watched, still at a loss for how they could help.

"You can sit with us in the Great Hall whenever you want," said Greg, patting Hermione awkwardly on the back a little too hard.

"Yeah an' if anyone gives you trouble for being a Mudblood, they'll have to answer to me and Greg," said Vince, nodding effusively.

"Oh!" he added when Hannah reached back to smack him. "I mean, 'Greg and I'."

Hermione huffed a small laugh and leaned to press her shoulder to Hannah's. "It's fine, really. Thank you."

"Just stay away from Flint. He's the worst of the lot," said Draco, looking up from the quill he'd been toying with.

"Yeah, that's f-- what time is it?" said Ron, interrupting himself suddenly.

"Three after four," Pansy answered, at first without concern, though she too sat bolt upright next. "Oh! Ron, run!"

Ron's chair scraped back with a tortured squeal as he shot to his feet. He paused only to lean in Hermione's direction.

"Hermione. Anyone gives you trouble and survives Crabbe and Goyle answers to me, understand?" With that he thumped the table next to her book once. He spared a frown for the squashed-face orange cat who jumped at that and ran out.

"What was that about?" Harry asked Pansy, who had busied herself resettling Ron's chair.

"Quidditch trials," said Pansy, not quite looking at either Harry or Draco. "Davies decided that since we've got to train up at the very least, a Keeper and two Chasers, Ravenclaw was going to start immediately this year."

Neither Harry nor Draco gave a damn that she wasn't quite looking at them, since they were busy staring at each other wide-eyed.

"We've only been here two days!" said Hannah, sitting up straighter. "What position is he going for?"

Pansy smirked purposefully at Draco. "Keeper. He's quite good."

"Yeah," mused Harry more to himself than anything. "I've seen him play 'round the Pitch. He's practiced with us before."

"But--" said Hermione quietly. "I thought he wasn't trying out because he couldn't aff- err. Didn't have a broom...?"

Draco knew well that Ron was better than fair at stopping whatever came at him. "So what changed?" he asked just short of accusatory, eyes on Pansy.

"The strangest coincidence," she began airily. "My eldest brother, Joshua? He just replaced his Shooting Star and happened to ask if I had use for it or knew anyone that might."

Draco narrowed his eyes, though he looked more annoyed than angry.

"You didn't."

"Did," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "What's it to you?"

Neville had the gall to laugh as Draco and Pansy stared each other down and venture, "Alright Hermione. That means it's up to you to represent us on the Slytherin team."

The resultant look on Hermione's face set everyone laughing... except Pansy, who only twitched her nose at Draco, and Draco who was otherwise occupied glaring right back. Hermione didn't get a chance to properly reply before Draco stood and tugged forcefully on Harry's shoulder.

"Let's go, Potter," he grumbled.

Harry stood, though he shoved Draco's hand off. "Yeah. I know."

"Yeah," Hannah sighed and got back to her feet. "Wait for me."

"Where're we going?" said Vince though he too was standing already.

"Pitch," said Hermione, stuffing her planner into her bag and replacing it with a bigger book. "These three need to see what they're up against. Stop me if I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong," said Harry, squeezing the top of her wrist as he walked past and fell in line with Draco. "You coming?"

"Ah," said Hermione, waving it off. "Have fun. I have some preparatory reading I haven't quite waded through yet."

"Good luck with that," muttered Draco, moving too quickly to be stopped.

Neville looked from Hermione to Harry and then back. Hermione shoved his knee under the table.

"Go on. I'll be fine. Take these two with you."

"We can stay," said Greg. "Shouldn't be alone anyway. Slytherins are sneaky."

"It's _fine_ ," said Hermione, her voice beginning to house more than a trace of exasperation. "Honestly, what could happen in the Library?"

Vince and Greg exchanged a shrug.

"Suppose you're right," said Greg, lifting his heavy bag as though it were feather-light.

"Yeah," agreed Vince. "Buncha books couldn't hurt, right?"

Hermione smiled, waved and watched them go in the direction everyone else had, waiting until they were out of sight to grab hold of Crookshanks and squish him close.

"Of course they can't," she muttered.

###

If Harry hadn't known any better, he'd have said that Hermione's body language as she crossed the corridor ahead as he and Draco made their way back from the trials screamed that she was slinking away.

"I don't believe Parkinson got her hands on a broom for the Weasel. I can't believe he took it either," huffed Draco at his elbow as they made their way back to the castle. "What happened to all his noble poverty?"

"You heard; he promised chess lessons for Joshua's eldest in exchange," muttered Harry, distracted and steering them in the direction that Hermione had been headed. "Damn it. He's good, too."

Draco shot a murderous look out of the corner of his eye. Harry didn't need to see it to know it was being directed at him.

"Well, he is," shrugged Harry.

"Exactly. Which is why I can't bloody well believe Parkinson's nerve-- where are we going?"

Harry jogged the space between them and Hermione, reaching for her shoulder when he got close enough to do so.

"Hey, Hermione. Wait up-- wh--!"

Draco's eyebrows shot up as Hermione turned, hands to her hips with a belligerent, "What?!"

"What the devil happened to your face?" asked Draco. Harry was already leaning in and tilting his head to examine the purpling bruise on her cheek.

_Tracey Davis_ happened. If you're quite through staring--"

"No- wha-- how?" sputtered Harry, completely dumbfounded.

" _Davis_. Hit you. I don't believe it," said Draco.

"She didn't," said Hermione with a frustrated sideways glare, batting Harry's hand away from her face. "A bookshelf _accidentally_ emptied itself onto me."

"But then how--" Harry began, only to be cut off again.

"I know, alright?" said Hermione, crossing her arms tightly. "I have ways."

"She's so dead," breathed Harry.

"Don't bother," said Hermione. "She'll be sorry enough in a few minutes."

Draco snorted a laugh, cocked his head and said, "This ought to be good."

"...Hermione--" said Harry, eyes still darting back and forth to Hermione's cheek. "What did you do?"

The corner of Hermione's lip quirked upward. "Let's just say that strangely? She's about to appear to be a giant block of cheese to any mammal under about five pounds or so."

Harry stared for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Oh. That's cruel. Especially for someone who has to deal with the dungeon staircase."

"Say, Granger," said Draco suddenly thoughtful. "Mind sharing that trick?"

###

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors filed out of the Defense classroom, still somewhat giggly despite the abrupt end of class. Hannah elbowed Greg with a snort of laughter.

"Kittens, mate? That's just--"

"Oi," mumbled Greg. "They've got wicked sharp itsy teeth an' move like they're boneless an' they move in herds if you give them the chance. They're just not to be trusted."

"You're one to talk," sneered Draco. "What's so bloody threatening about butterflies?"

Harry walked just ahead, more quiet than usual.

"Shut up," Hannah frowned. "That was a great, nasty moth and you know I don't like bugs. At least I wasn't hiding at the end of the line, Malfoy. What are you afraid of? House Elves? Dust bunnies? Broken mirrors?"

"Sod off, Abbott," said Draco, head held high. " I wasn't _hiding_. I was _watching_ and biding my time. Not everyone can put on a spectacular Dementor show like Potter here."

"Huh?" Harry managed, having heard his name with no clue as to what context.

"Go back to sleep, Potter," sighed Hannah. "All that coddling by the professor is tiring, I know."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "I wish he'd have let me try. It was only a Boggart. I could've taken it."

The group went somewhat silent. Finally Vince said, "Dunno, Harry. Can you really cast when you're passed out?"

Draco opened his mouth to volunteer a comment that would no doubt have had nothing to do with Harry's defense, but was interrupted by the familiar sounds of Ron and Hermione boldly debating something obscure and academic as they approached a junction of corridors.

"I'm telling you, the Goblin Wars were pivotal in the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy, and would have been no matter when they'd happened," said Hermione with the air of a bored academic lecturing mulish schoolchildren.

"And _I'm_ telling you that it's bollocks. The Goblin Wars were clearly a diversion away from the real matters at hand and fomented from within the existing Ministry," insisted Ron, looking up and away with a long-suffering sigh. "What better way to convince Muggles to try and burn witches when a troop of Goblins rampages through their back gardens?"

"Please. You're grossly oversimplifying the issue," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Again."

"I have a simple issue!" said Pansy when she caught sight of their approaching friends. "Would someone please rescue me from these two? Really, I like a good Goblin War as much as the next Ravenclaw, but I'm lucky to have survived the original lecture alone."

"What? Pansy, come on--" said Ron, clearly looking for backup and failing to find it.

"No. I don't give a rat's arse. We know it happened, we know the mechanics of why and what happened as a result. Let's move on, shall we?"

"Please," came yet another voice from behind, causing the friends to subtly close ranks around Hermione. "Let's move on. I can't _wait_ for class with Professor Oaf," said Tracey, a smirking Lavender at her side and a scowling Eloise trailing behind. "Do you suppose he can even spell 'Professor'?"

"Do you suppose he can spell at all?" said Lavender, low and vicious, and she and Tracey snickered.

"Honestly, he's almost as bad as a Muggle," said Tracey. "Worse."

"Now that's low," Draco said with a huff and Hermione was torn between frowning at him and her housemates.

"I hear you acquired a herd of new pets, Davis," smirked Hannah, hipshot and imposing... somewhat due to the two hulking boys behind her, true, but by now the whole school knew with some certainty she could hold her own without them. "How'd that work out for you?"

Though she blanched somewhat, Tracey answered evenly, "Just fine, thank you. Professor Snape Banished them, unfortunately, or I'd have sent them right back in Granger's direction next. I hear Muggles and Weasleys enjoy them because they remind them of family."

Harry made to move forward, but both Draco and Pansy shot a hand out to stop him.

"Stay away from her, Davis," he growled nonetheless.

Hermione groaned, "Oh, hell," but Harry disregarded it.

"Potter. I wouldn't _dream_ of coming near," Tracey said, punctuating it with a delicate sniff. "Disease, you know." Lavender tittered, Eloise continued to look miserably resolute.

"Davis," said Draco quietly. "Remember that party your father threw the summer before we came to Hogwarts?" As one, Pansy, Vince, and Greg shifted uncomfortably and Tracey went ashen. "How _is_ your mother faring these days?"

"Blood traitor," Davis growled. "You're no better than _them_."

"Bollocks. I'm far better than any of them combined," Draco countered with a smirk.

"Let's move along, here!" shouted a passing Prefect. "Class in two minutes!"

Of course.

Cedric set a hand on Tracey's shoulder and grinned. "Don't want to be late, do we? Of course not," while Penelope Clearwater waved cheerfully in Ron and Pansy's direction.

"Come on now. Potions for you, isn't it? With the Hufflepuffs?"

"Gryffindor," corrected both Hannah and Pansy, upon which Penelope shooed them in the appropriate direction.

"Thanks, mate," Harry murmured as he passed Cedric once the group broke apart and began to move again, though the discussion was far from over.

"Don't thank me," said Cedric, suddenly collaring him and Draco and pushing them off to the side in order to be able to address them better. "Fights will get you detention that will certainly coincide with practice, do you understand me? I don't give a damn what that chit says, it is not worth it."

"We weren't fighting!" hissed Harry.

"And I'm the Minister of Magic," Cedric said with a raised eyebrow, cutting Draco off before he could say anything of the kind. "Watch it. Both of you. Now get to class."

"We're not firsties!" said Draco, indignant as Cedric pulled away to rejoin Penelope on their rounds.

"Then stop acting like it," shrugged Cedric. "Trials at four."

The majority of their classmates were significantly ahead of them by now, and Harry and Draco spared one last sullen glance in his direction before jogging to catch up.

"'Stop acting like it', my arse," grumbled Draco.

"We're going to have to do something about Davis," muttered Harry.

"No, we're not," said Draco. Harry stopped in his tracks.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because Granger is a Slytherin; she got herself into this mess and she's going to have to deal with it. And if you think she's not already working out how, you have clearly not been paying attention."

Harry frowned in thought. Draco didn't give him a chance to get far.

"Come on," he urged, beginning to move again and forcing Harry to keep up. "We'll miss your mate's first class."

###

As one, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins stared at the hippogriff and the half-giant professor, open-mouthed and disbelieving when he asked if anyone wanted to 'come up and pet the little fella'. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Neville had unconsciously pulled into a tighter knot than usual but as always, it was Harry that ended up volunteered.

"He's going to die," muttered Draco. Hermione elbowed him with a disapproving frown, as though she weren't clutching Neville's elbow in the other hand.

"No one's going to _die_ ," she hissed. "Hagrid knows what he's doing."

"Malfoy," whispered Daphne, peering around Draco, who very nearly jumped out of his skin. "Have you ever seen one of these?"

Flinching when the hippogriff appeared unimpressed with Harry's show of respect and reared back, Draco mumbled, "In books. Be quiet."

"Oh my God! He's going to get eaten," said Anthony. "How is this educational?"

"Hush," said Daphne. "They're pretty. I'm sure it's not going to eat Harry."

"...How does its aesthetic affect its ability to eat third years?" hissed Draco, his eyes riveted on the scene.

"I mean, they're pretty, _and_ I'm sure that it's not going to eat Harry," sighed Daphne. "Look - it's practically smiling!"

"Because it knows there's a meal coming!" said Anthony with some distress.

Draco visibly relaxed when the thing let Harry pet its head like some overgrown feline. He could see Neville shaking his arm out when Hermione let go, no doubt trying to regain circulation to the lower half of his limb, but neither said a thing. It was quiet for a whole second or two before Hagrid just... _deposited_ Harry onto the creature and sent it off with a slap to the arse. Draco and everyone around him gasped, eyes turned skyward to watch for Harry's inevitable fall, subsequent death and metamorphosis into a meal for large magical creatures. Anthony made a noise like a plaintive bleat under his breath and Daphne sighed loudly.

"Don't be such a baby," she grumbled. "He'll be fine."

"If fine is a metaphor for 'dead'," worried Anthony.

"Shut. Up. Both of you," growled Draco. "If there's one thing that git can do, it's fly."

That seemed to work, at least long enough for the thing to come back and land safely. Hagrid helped Harry down and Hermione breathed, "Oh, thank God," almost too quietly to be heard over the chatter that sprung up all around them.

"See?" said Daphne while Potter talked with Hagrid. "No harm done. It's like a giant puppy."

"A _puppy_ ," said Draco, grimacing at her. "Are you mad?"

"No, she's right," said Anthony, visibly puffing up. "It's not so bad. Why, _I_ could go out there and greet it myself, if I so chose."

"Right," Draco said after a brief pause, completely unimpressed with the survival instinct of the population at large, and proceeded to turn his full attention on Hermione and Neville instead.

"--understand that the word 'Hippogriff' comes from the Latin fo--" Hermione was saying, and Draco tuned her out too, crossing his arms and completely done with this ridiculous excuse for a class.

...Just in time to see Anthony wandering out to meet the beast, with Daphne looking on as though he were so very brave rather than just very stupid.

"Goldstein!" Draco shouted, but it was too late. The hippogriff was squawking and canting, and for some unfathomable reason, Anthony merely stood there looking as though he might vomit.

Later, Draco would explain his actions as concern for a housemate's safety and the points that might be lost should he die as a result of his stupidity. At that moment, he couldn't have explained at all why he rushed out and grabbed Anthony by the shoulders just as the hippogriff reared up again, higher this time, beak clacking and talons raised. He simply did, turning Anthony toward the crowd with a shove and a swear just as the beast came down burning lines of fire down Draco's upper arm and across his elbow and forearm. He stumbled but didn't quite fall, thanks to Neville and Hermione catching him and practically dragging him back and away. The crowd noise from the students around him grew into panicked shouts, over which he could hear Hagrid shouting at the hippogriff and Harry shouting something and-- ouch.

Draco looked at the blood dripping from his arm, grimaced dramatically, and promptly passed out.

And then came to almost immediately when Hagrid lifted him off of the ground and made for the castle.

"Put me down--" he mumbled, but it did no good. There seemed to be a minimum of jostling for how quickly the trees were passing, but Draco was still loopy, unnerved and his arm throbbed.

"We'll get ye' t' Madam Pomfrey and she'll fix you right up, don' you worry," said Hagrid.

Draco groaned and let his head loll until he could see Harry, Hermione and Neville jogging to keep up, all looking as though they were constipated, but the sideways mess of it started giving him a headache and he could feel his pulse all the way from the fingers on his mangled arm to the top of his pounding head.

"God I hate magical creatures," he mumble-sighed, and managed to pass out again.

###

This time when he came to, Madam Pomfrey wasn't even done mending his arm.

"There you are," she said kindly, her wand weaving magic he could feel throughout his arm. "Nasty scare, Mister Malfoy, but it's not serious. We'll have you up and about in just a bit."

A flurry of activity registered just past her, and Draco smiled despite himself.

"You lot are pathetic," he said, loudly enough to be heard by the group of friends at the foot of the bed he'd been set upon.

"You're the one on your arse in hospital," Harry said with a grin, circling around the end of the bed.

"About that. Are you busy later?" said Draco conversationally.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"Yes. I'm afraid I have an appointment to kick Goldstein's arse. Thought you could assist."

"None of that, Mister Malfoy," said Madam Pomfrey with a stern little look over the top of her glasses that held more amusement than reproach. She pulled back her wand, inspected her work and seemingly satisfied, waved her wand over his shredded shirtsleeve to repair the gashes in the fabric. "Injuries you sustain in fights aren't something I'll suffer gladly."

"Yes, ma'am," mumbled Draco, clearly displeased.

"Besides, he already feels terrible," said Hermione. "It could've been a lot worse."

"Yes. That thing might've killed me. I would threaten to haunt the wanker, but--"

"Mister Malfoy!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, tightening the conjured sling to get his attention. "Watch yourself. Now. I was able to fix the lacerations and all of the underlying damage, however, you are to _rest_ this arm for at least a week."

"A week!" whined Draco. "But practi--"

"A _week_ , and you'll thank me for it," said Madam Pomfrey, brooking no argument. "After that you should be able to go back to working on ways to come visit me all over again."

Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed and made to stand, but she pushed him back by the uninjured shoulder.

"Ah-ah-ah. Sit. Let the potions sink in and you can get up to go to dinner and back to your house from there."

Petulant, Draco sat back and began to cross his arms, only to remember the sling and pout further. Madam Pomfrey pointed warningly at Harry, Hermione and Neville.

"You three--" she glanced at the clock, "--are in class as far as I know. Don't let him use that arm. Stay here until dinner. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am," they all chimed. She nodded, satisfied, and hurried to her office.

Hermione sunk down on the end of the bed while Harry pulled up a chair and Neville dragged one from the next bedside over.

"So," ventured Hermione. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been mauled by a bloody monster," said Draco. "Because I have."

Hermione shrugged. "Technically, it's not mauling since--" and stopped speaking when she caught sight of the look that Draco was giving her.

"The points Goldstein lost and those that were given to you even out," said Neville, finally. "He's been given detention, though. Mucking pens for a week."

"Can't bloody well believe they let that oaf teach a class," huffed Draco. "How could Dumbledore allow him to bring those things in?"

"Hey-" said Harry, sitting up and beginning to look offended. "Hagrid did his best. It wasn't his fault Goldstein decided to be a tosser. Hagrid could've controlled him!"

"And he was paying such close attention to do so, wasn't he?" Draco sneered. "And if it hadn't been Goldstein, some other moron would have tried it, you know they would've."

"Oh, come on," Harry scoffed. "Hermione, tell him."

Hermione looked uncomfortable, twisting the edge of her skirt just below her knee. "Well... actually, Harry, the hippogriff is probably best left to advanced studies. Though! You are very right in that Anthony did provoke it."

"Since when do you complain about studying ahead?" asked Harry, and Hermione's eyes came up, wide and panicked.

"Ahead?! Oh! Bother. I have to go--" She slid off of the bed and murmured, "See you all later. Draco, feel better!" as she hoisted her massive bookbag and ran out.

"Alright, then," muttered Harry, confused as she ran off.

Neville shrugged. "You know her."

"Yes, and she agreed that this was completely unnecessary," huffed Draco. "Practice at four, Potter, and I'm not allowed to use this arm!"

"Isn't as though Diggory's chucking you from the team," said Harry irritably. "You heard Madam Pomfrey, it'll be fine."

"That doesn't change the fact that Hagrid is a halfbreed fool, his animal is little better than a monster and--"

The door to Madam Pomfrey's office and she hurried down the room to the bed in which Draco sat. "Your father's here, Mister Malfoy." Her worried eyes darted to Neville and Harry, face red and brow furrowed, clearly on the verge of a vehement rebuttal.

"And that my father's going to kill someone," finished Draco, collapsing back onto the raised pillows.

###

Draco sat cross-legged in the center of his bed awake well before usual and waited. It was not long before a vicious tapping at the window sent him to his feet, hurrying in the hopes that no one else would wake. His arm was no longer in a sling, and had not been for a handful of days, and it felt perfectly fine, thanks. He pushed the window open just far enough to take the message from the huge owl still damp with the early morning dew, and shut the window in the bird's face before it could peck at his hand.

A soft snore sounded from behind Harry's bed curtains, and Draco froze in place. When no further movement or sound was evident, he crept back into his own bed and resumed his position, breaking the seal on the letter and reading it with everincreasing agitation.

The grave, elegant signature at the bottom that looked much like what Draco's might one day was his cue to slump forward and allow the parchment to crumple in his hands as he did.

_The day will come when you will understand..._ said Lucius Malfoy. _No Malfoy should have to take up residence in such a House as the one to which you have been relegated, though your heedless behavior seems to warrant no better..._ said Lucius Malfoy.

"Hey," said a sleepy Harry from the other side of Draco's drapes, his hand appearing in the seam and tugging on whatever bedding was closest. "Get up."

"Yeah, in a min--" Draco answered, interrupted as the letter in his hand blazed up and destroyed itself without heat, leaving only cool ashes in his hands.

"Wazzat?" muttered Harry, pulling the drapes aside in earnest to peer in. His hair was smashed into a shape that was ridiculous even for him, and he was still rubbing at his eye under his glasses.

"Nothing, Potter. Christ, do you mind?" Draco snapped and sprang from his bed, past a supremely confused Potter and toward the bathroom, brushing ashes from his hands as he went.

_Perhaps study abroad at Durmstrang would remind you of your responsibilities._

Draco didn't want to be reminded of anything of the sort. He wanted to be left alone.

###


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perfectly good story about quidditch continues to be interrupted by murderers on the loose and bastard upperclassmen. Rude. (Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Neville, Hannah, Vince, Greg, Anthony, Daphne, Luna, Remus, Ginny, Fred, George and like a hundred other people that won't shut up)

Luna grinned hugely up at Remus, who was regarding her with equal amounts fascination and amusement.

"--And you say it's temporary," he said, crossing his arms and setting his closed fist against his chin.

"Yes, sir," She nodded, her normally blond hair now bright scarlet streaked with gold to match her Gryffindor scarf. "Designed specifically to last 8 hours, give or take an hour or so. It's been tested extensively."

"I see. And part of your marketing plan was to make the faculty aware that you're selling these 'Rocktop Taffies' without permission?"

"You're a Gryffindor, too, Professor." Luna just continued to beam. "It only seemed fair."

"Quite right, Miss Lovegood." Remus laughed. How could he not? He fished in his pocket, counted out four sickles and dropped them in her hand. "I'll take a small pack, but you can keep the change if you promise to see what you can do about _convincing_ Mr. Potter to do the same."

"Oh, I couldn't take your money for that, Professor," Luna said earnestly, looking over to where Fred and George were busily taunting the Hufflepuff team. "There's already a plan in place for _that_. Whether it succeeds or not remains to be seen."

Remus laughed again and muttered, "Brilliant. Then keep it to forget we had this conversation."

Luna handed him the small packet of striped candy with a solemn nod. "What conversation?" she asked airily and walked away.

Still grinning, Remus peered at his reflection in a nearby suit of armor and popped one of the taffies into his mouth, idly wondering if the raucous color would cover the gray. James and Peter would have approved, he thought. He tried to shove away the thought of anyone else who might've agreed, but he could hear Sirius laughing uproariously in the back of his head and it made his stomach turn uneasily.

Being back at Hogwarts had been far more difficult than he'd expected. Every corner and secret passage held a memory that both warmed and ached. Every time he saw Harry, he wanted to pull him aside and talk to him about his parents; tell him stories that the Muggles who raised him would never have known, and did not, for fear of... well. For fear.

He set his feet back on the path toward the Pitch and knew exactly the moment the candy kicked in by the snickering and cheering that erupted from the students he walked past. Once he made his way up into the stand where much of the faculty sat, however, the reaction became more of a scandalized murmur.

"Toffee?" he offered once he took possession of the space that Minerva had saved for him, holding the bag in her direction. She stared at him over the top of her glasses, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as she took in the color of his hair.

"Did you get them from the Weasley twins?"

"Miss Lovegood, actually."

"Same difference," Minerva scoffed.

"I've noticed," said Remus with a grin. He took another sweet and leaned forward to see the person seated to Minerva's right. "Severus? Would you like one?"

Snape paused, glared first as if to make sure it was sufficiently venomous, and then turned the glare on Remus.

"That is the most ridiculous question I have yet to hear this week, and damnably, I've been surrounded by children for most of it. Congratulations."

Remus popped the sweet into his mouth and lifted an eyebrow. "That's a 'no'?"

Snape didn't bother to answer-- he merely sneered and returned his attention to the Pitch. Minerva elbowed Remus discreetly in the process of resettling her cloak and shot him a sideways glance that failed utterly to appear to be anything but amused.

Just as Remus crumpled the empty packet into his pocket, Lee Jordan arrived breathless, sheepishly shaking the rain off of his scarf as he grinned at Minerva.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor McGonagall," he huffed. "Bit of trouble getting here."

"I'll just bet, Mr. Jordan," she said, stern as she handed him the enchanted megaphone. "Next time, I'll commentate the game myself."

"No need, ma'am. Thank you," Lee said with a grin, not dampened at all as she waggled her finger at him.

"Watch yourself. Do not slander or abuse the other team or their House, do not call their flying into question, do not incite the crowd or take it upon yourself to call fouls; merely call the plays, if you would." He nodded enthusiastically and she added, "I'm watching you."

Lee continued to nod and assure her that he understood. When Minerva was through, he switched it on and turned to face the crowd.

"Good morning, Hogwarts! Welcome to the first game of the quidditch season! Today, We're pitting the might of Gryffindor against the badgers of Hufflepuff house, who are hoping that their golden lineup can manage to follow up last year's record-breaking season; a feat that in fact, Gryffindor is about to render completely impossible to achieve as they prepare to wallop Hufflepuff mercilessly."

"Oh for--" Minerva sighed though she made no move to stop him. "Merlin help us all."

Partially sodden from the patchy rain that had been falling on and off and in occasional torrents, Remus couldn't help but grin as he pulled his collar up against the light drizzle and an early November wind that was beginning to take on a vicious bite.

###

Just after match began, the rain began to pour down in earnest, and not a spectator was left untouched as the winds pushed the water under awnings and turned umbrellas inside out. The quidditch players over the Pitch were wearing waterproofed cloaks and insulated gear, but the storm was raging hard enough that it didn't matter, soaking through uniforms and gloves and down into shin guards that just grew heavier as the game wore on.

Harry didn't envy Cedric the job Seeking today at all. Not that he ever really did, but today he knew the Snitch was going to be utterly impossible to locate in these conditions. As it stood, it was impossible enough to see and keep hold of the quaffle, dark as it was, if far larger. The score stood at 20-10 Gryffindor and both teams were flying as reasonably well as they could under the present conditions when Harry intercepted the quaffle on a pass that involved his, Draco and Ian's threading between the Gryffindor Chasers. Not the safest move at best, it had probably been tantamount to insanity with the visibility being what it was, and Lee didn't hesitate to point that out.

The Hufflepuff Chasers however, paid no attention. They picked up formation right away and proceeded in a beeline toward the Gryffindor goals. As they approached, they split further apart using a complex crossover in which Harry handed the quaffle off to Draco, who handed it off to Ian as their paths intersected. Harry headed straight for Wood at the center hoop anyway, hoping that the weather would be with them and helping to keep Wood from knowing which hoop to block, but Wood's instincts were dead on. He dove for the quaffle that Ian tossed and Harry swore as he overflew the hoop, wheeling around to begin again.

When he did, he found himself face to face with a person-shape he hadn't seen coming.

The screaming in his head started before he could do anything to avoid it, and the storm closed in around his unconscious form as it fell earthward unimpeded.

###

When Harry's eyes opened again, he couldn't immediately place where he might be, nor where the pounding in his head originated. There was an insistent susurration swirling around him that might be more than one person speaking, but he couldn't quite be certain from behind the gradually fading curtain of bees.

He hazarded one eye open and a warm hand landed on his wrist. All he managed to say was, "Bzuh?" Again.

"Oh good, you're awake," said Hermione quietly.

The business of waking up with a headache and the certainty that something was very wrong was beginning to wear on Harry. He might have said so, except the memory of what he'd been doing before he'd passed out in the face of creeping despair intruded upon his senses.

Harry sat bolt upright and said, "The match. What happened?" Though the move set his head swimming momentarily, he could see that there was a small crowd gathered round; the Hufflepuff team still in sodden and somewhat bedraggled robes, as well as half the Gryffindor team in the same condition. Ron, Pansy Hermione, Neville, Crabbe and Goyle-- not the 'small' crowd at all, perhaps, all looking a little abashed at the question.

"I caught the Snitch!" said Hannah with some enthusiasm, elliciting a groan from the assembled Hufflepuffs.

"Diggory can blame it on being distracted by your impending death, if he needs to," said Wood He was standing behind and to the right of the Seeker in question, patting Cedric's shoulder heavily twice before leaving it in place there. "We won't begrudge it him this time."

Cedric glared over his shoulder. "Malfoy and Cadwallader went after you, Harry, but--

"We couldn't get past the Dementors," said Ian, apologetic.

Harry blinked, taking in the fact that they'd lost the game and it was his fault, and taking only the barest bit of comfort in the fact that he was alive to hear the story. "Then how--"

Standing next to Ian, Draco was holding what appeared to be a length of wood. His hair was a darker shade of blond than usual, still wet and at odd angles across his forehead, though it didn't do much to cover his own scowl.

"Dumbledore. He used a spell to catch you on the way and slow your fall. The rest of the professors managed to dispel the Dementors--" he tossed whatever he'd been holding lightly over Harry's lap, "--and your broom was blown directly into the bloody, sodding Whomping Willow."

Harry stared, ashen-faced at what had been part of the handle of his Nimbus 2000, cracked messily no more than half a meter from the end.

"No one thought to Summon it until after it became kindling," Draco added, accusation clear in his tone, as though someone within hearing range could be held responsible for the destruction.

"They were busy worrying about Harry, too," said Fred definitively.

"I told Fred here that you'd bounce, at any rate," retorted George.

"Or would have said, if we'd been watching you instead of Diggory," shrugged Fred and suddenly he and George became their own wall of conversation.

"Everyone watches Diggory."

"Bloody unfair, is what."

"He's all flash."

"We're far better-looking."

"At any rate, bouncing or not, the panic was overrated."

"Not like anyone was going to let you actually die of a case of quidditch."

"If it'd been Ron, though--"

"--He'd probably be dead meat."

"Not that _that_ should worry you," said George with an elbow to Ron's back.

"You've got two weeks until it's your turn to figure out how to outrun them," agreed Fred. Ron shot them a dark look, but Pansy beat him to the response.

"Would you two please shut up?" she said in such a way that made it clearly not a request. "Harry, are you alright?"

Fred and George made faces that screamed of mock intimidation, dramatically zipping their lips and tossing aside the imaginary keys, but Harry was still staring at the broken bit of his broom. Ron nudged Harry's shin guard with the back of his hand and murmured, "Mate?"

"Yeah," mumbled Harry, though it couldn't be further from the truth. "I'm fine."

###

It had been a week since the disastrous match, which meant a week to the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match, all of which in turn was wreaking havoc with the internal dynamics of the group of friends gathered under the clock in preparation for the trip into Hogsmeade. While Filch droned on about permission slips and old-fashioned punishments, they fidgeted and rambled, one conspicuous member short.

"Where's Potter?" asked Hannah, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her sweatshirt, hood pulled up and well over her head. Vince and Greg nodded from their customary bookend positions around her.

"Sulking somewhere in the castle, likely," answered Pansy. "His uncle wouldn't sign his permission slip."

"Ugh," mumbled Hannah.

Draco nodded in assent and added, "Muggles," in place of a curse word.

Fortunately, Hermione took no note, whispering as she was to Ron in a disturbingly conspiratorial fashion, stopping now and then to bat at Neville with what must be particularly distracting ideas.

"If you're plotting you'd best be including us," said Draco, draping a casual arm around Pansy's shoulders. Just then, the clock struck ten, signaling time to set out on the path toward the village, and the crowd around them began to mill more intently. Pansy wrapped her arm around Draco's waist and squeezed him tight for a moment, then slipped away.

"Not me," she grinned, taking hold of Neville's elbow. "I have business to attend to, and I'll require Neville's assistance."

Both Neville and Draco sputtered, Draco's hands thrown up in a violent shrug. Pansy blithely continued, stepping up her pace, forcing Neville to keep up. "It won't be long. We'll meet you at noon? The Three Broomsticks for lunch?"

"Ok!" said Hannah, stepping up and waving them on without concern, thumping Draco with her elbow in the process. "No worries, Malfoy. Quality Quidditch Hogsmeade just got in their new stock for the season."

Ron perked from as far away as he was, and Hermione groaned.

"But the Shrieking Shack--"

"But-- quidditch," said Ron, looking torn for a moment, then lighting up with a new idea. "Come with us. We'll do both."

Hermione tossed her braid over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "Oh, whatever. I'm perfectly capable of going on my own."

Vince and Greg exchanged a look.

"We want to go to the Shack," said Vince.

"Supposed to be the most haunted place in Hogsmeade," agreed Greg.

"There we have it," said Draco, though his eyes strayed to where Neville and Pansy were far enough ahead of them to disappear around the bend in the road. "Everyone's happy. Except Potter, which is probably the way of the world."

"And we'll still meet at noon for lunch?" said Ron, hopefully, cracking a bit of a wheedling grin. "Come on, Hermione. You know you don't want to put up with the lot of us at Quality Quidditch."

"Fine." Hermione's expression softened ever so slightly. "Yes, I suppose that'll work."

###

Harry wasn't sulking. Mostly. Mostly because he was determined to put the time alone to good use.

At about the time his friends were finding their way to Hogsmeade, he was knocking on Professor Lupin's office door, the lack of response cementing in his mind the certainty that the professor was among the throng heading for town. After his third set of unanswered knocks, Harry grimaced and turned away, closer to sulking than he had been to begin with. He was halfway down the corridor by the time he heard the door open behind him, and stopped short when Professor Lupin cleared his throat and said, "Hello?"

"Yes! Professor Lupin, hello!" called Harry, jogging faster at the 'thud' of what sounded like a second door closing in the direction he was heading. "Wait--" he faltered, brow furrowed when he saw that the door was still open. "Err..."

"Harry," Lupin smiled a little abashed, casting a very brief glance over his shoulder and running a hand through his hair. "My apologies. I was in the middle of rather engrossing research. Was there something you needed?"

"I, yes." Harry said, hands jammed down in his pockets. "I was wondering. Is there--" he frowned, searching for the right words, and when he found them, they were earnest with the barest touch of desperation. "Can you teach me how to defend myself from the Dementors? Do what you did on the train, and on the Pitch?"

"I... _could_. It's advanced magic, but..." Lupin peered at him, suddenly far more serious than he had been. "Yes. I think I should try."

"Good," said Harry, nodding. "Now?"

"I do happen to be free." Lupin smiled ruefully. "Meet me in--" his brow creased in thought, "--half an hour in the Defense classroom. I need to gather together the necessary supplies."

"Ok." Harry's expression became an infectious grin and he began to back away. "Thank you, Professor."

Rushing off as he was, Harry didn't hear Lupin's sigh, nor his quiet mutter of, "Don't thank me just yet."

###

"...You're joking."

"Not at all," Pansy beamed. "I've taken lessons here every summer for five years. Mother thinks the area is declassé, but Madam Sophie attended Beauxbatons with my aunt and boasts impressive credentials that even Mother can't argue with."

Neville looked up and down the cobbled side street off of the Hogsmeade high street as though afraid of being caught. "I know. I've been in some of the same lessons." A knock on the large window from the inside caught his attention and he looked up to find a familiar face smiling and waving them in.

"I know. That's why you're here."

"But - my Gran made me." He looked a little embarrassed as he quoted the woman. "She's says it's something at which all gentlemen of good breeding should be proficient." He shrugged. "It's not like I wanted to."

"But you like it," insisted Pansy.

"I--" said Neville lamely, still looking pained, but unable to deny it. "Sort of?"

"I won't tell. Now come dance."

He shot another look up and down the street as Pansy hauled him through the door.

"Tante Sophie!" Pansy said, greeting their instructor with a kiss to each cheek. "Thank you so much for agreeing to the private lesson. Ballroom, I think?" She held up Neville's hand. "I brought a partner!"

###

Harry was slumped over a book at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, sleeping soundly, glasses askew and mouth open when the groups of students began filtering back from Hogsmeade. Platters of bread and raw vegetables and water pitchers began to appear up and down the length of the table save for a space left around him. Thoughtfully, a small pillow had appeared under his tousled head.

"What d'you suppose he's been doing all day?" whispered Adri leaning over Harry's left side, head tilted in confusion and poking at his ear ever so lightly. Harry only twitched.

"Dunno. What do third years do when left to their own devices all day long?" answered Jin, leaning over Harry's right side and tucking a bit of carrot stick into his collar.

"I knew Potter was trying to keep pace with his brainiac friends, but it never seemed that difficult for him. And spending a Hogsmeade Saturday revising?" said Adri with a frown, trying to balance a celery stick on top of his mop of hair, and then another. "That's just not right."

"You know his family didn't sign his permission slip," said Jin, settling a warm bun on Harry's shoulder. "That's why he was stuck here." Adri raised her eyes to meet his, clearly scandalized while she added another celery stick.

"What kind of monsters would do that to a lad?!"

Jin shrugged and eyed the mustard. "All I know is they're Muggles."

Still horrified, Adri wrinkled her nose and tilted her chin up. "Oi. I have some of those. I like 'em just fine."

"I don't have a problem with them," said Jin with yet another shrug while beginning the delicate process of dangling a bit of broccoli into Harry's open mouth. "I'm just telling what I know."

Cedric strolled by the opposite side of the table with Oliver and a handful of mixed Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors in tow, casually dropping a squeaking ice mouse on the back of Harry's neck with an offhand, "Reveille, Potter."

Harry woke with a shocked inhale and scrabbled at his collar, though the motion only caused the chilly candy to slide down the back of his shirt.

"What?! Gah! Ack!" he sputtered over the laughter around him, contorting to try and retrieve the mouse from his clothing while simultaneously attempting to swat at the brief rain of hors d'oeuvres cascading down his arms and off of his head.

"So rude," said Hermione glaring at a retreating Jin and Adri, who were still bursting with laughter. "Hold still," she grumbled and in one swift move, untucked the back of Harry's flannel and undershirt, shaking until the mouse fell out.

Swearing, Harry jumped again and turned, batting her hands away. "Wh--! Ice! Hermione?"

She stood hipshot while the ice mouse was left to melt slowly on the stones between them, Hannah and Ron behind her nearly out of sight as they were doubled over with laughter. Draco snickered while Pansy looked sufficiently unimpressed and Neville smirked unsettlingly.

"Morning, Harry," deadpanned Hermione. "Bored without us?"

"No, actually," Harry said, rubbing at his eyes and brushing ineffectually at the final carrot that fell out of his collar. "Why would you think that?"

###

"You're going to have to teach us next, mate," said Ron not too much later from across the Ravenclaw table where they'd all ended up for dinner.

"I read about Patronuses after what happened on the train," said Hermione, peering at Harry and looking more than a little impressed. "It's supposed to be really advanced magic. I understand they teach it in NEWT-level Defense. And you managed one? Fully formed?"

Harry pushed a potato onto his plate with a little shrug. "Yeah. Took a few tries, though." He shrugged with a self-deprecating little laugh. "A lot. I passed out a couple of times too. It was bloody well exhausting."

"Now imagine how quickly we'll pick it up since we won't be fainting left and right," said Draco, reaching for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Sod off, Malfoy," said Harry, though he wasn't actually frowning.

Smirking, Draco kicked Harry under the table. "Watch it, or we won't share the loot."

"Ron's right," said Pansy, unfolding her napkin across her lap. "We _should_ all learn. Those things are surrounding the castle grounds, and there's no telling when they'll decide to drop in for a visit again."

"Fine." Harry shrugged. "Can we start tomorrow?"

"Excellent," Hermione said and began on her soup.

A lone owl made its way across the enchanted ceiling, swooping low and dropping a letter in front of Draco without a pause. He frowned, squinted to read it, and then visibly paled as he shoved it in his pocket. All Harry saw was the ornate letter 'M' on the seal.

"What's that, now?" asked Hannah with interest, craning her neck to see.

"Nothing," Draco said, catching Harry's eye briefly, all the amusement gone from his face.

"Ooooh," said Hannah, nudging Hermione. "One of _those_ letters."

"I said it was none of your business," Draco snapped. The group fell quiet and Draco didn't bother trying to cover for it. Harry cleared his throat.

"Erm. Where are Greg and Vince?" asked Harry.

"Greg's family met them in town for dinner," said Hannah, still somewhat glaring at Draco. "I guess it was his mum's birthday?"

It was Pansy's turn to frown and exchange a look with Draco.

"What?" asked Hannah, beginning to sound annoyed.

"Nothing," said Pansy, poking at her dinner. "I'd forgotten, is all. I'm sure my mother sent a gift."

"You should have seen Honeydukes, Harry," said Ron. It may have otherwise seemed a total lack of social grace, but his gaze lingered too long on Hermione's fidgeting hands, and his tone was too loudly disingenuous to be anything but a distraction.

"Oh!" said Hermione, reaching into her bag. "Of course!" She thumped down a brown bag in front of Harry with a crooked smile. "You've already met the ice mice, but there were so many amazing sweets, we couldn't decide what to bring you."

Harry glanced from one to the other and couldn't help but return the smile, dropping his fork to peer into the bag. "Yeah?" He turned it out onto the tabletop, picked out a chocolate frog and tossed it unerringly and without an upward glance to Draco, who caught it much the same way. The bright contents shifted as he poked through them and muttered, "what's this?"

It was a packet of... _something_ that seemed to squirm and wiggle on its own, and Hannah giggled.

"Ok, that's just mean."

Grinning, Ron and Hermione pointed at one another without hesitation and said at roughly the same time, "That was your idea."

"Give me those," said Pansy, tugging them out of Harry's hand. "Bleeeccch. They taste lovely, but they don't stop wiggling." Harry's brow furrowed and she added pointedly, "Ever. Not even once they've exited your system."

"Oh," said Harry, until it dawned on him what she meant. "Oh! Ugh."

"Exactly. I thought they'd stopped selling them to students."

Ron shrugged. "We have ways."

"Excuse me!" said Pansy to a passing second year. "Creevey is it? I'm afraid we've got too much candy, would you like some?"

Wiggling gummy worms in hand, Colin dashed off after a round of effusive thanks. Harry watched with open-mouthed amusement.

"Ugh."

"He will never, ever learn," mused Hermione.

"And it will never stop being funny," added Draco unexpectedly, abandoning all pretense of a silent, brooding dinner in favor of the chocolate in hand.

Harry relaxed a little in his seat and held up another bizarrely familiar sweet. "Alright. How about this?"

###

"Harry. Wake up, Harry, something terrible's happened!"

Harry stirred and half-asleep, groped for his glasses. He shoved himself up on one elbow and squinted.

"Goldstein? What time is it?"

Anthony nodded quickly, his face pale. "Half three. Someone broke into the Ravenclaw common room and tried to kill Ron Weasley. They're saying it was Sirius Black."

No longer lacking in coordination, Harry vaulted from his bed and slammed directly into Draco.

"Potter! Calm down."

"He killed my parents!" snarled Harry, doing his groggy best to get away. Draco shook him once.

"Yes, and he'll kill you too. Where's your wand?"

Backing down just a touch, Harry scrubbed a hand down his face. "Sirius Black is in the castle."

"Maybe. And if he was, he's probably long gone," said Draco.

Harry bristled and shoved him away. "Then I'll f--"

The door of the dormitory burst open and Madley, the seventh year prefect, called authoritatively, "Shoes, suitable pyjamas and wands; be in the common room in two minutes, this is _not_ a drill."

Anthony looked terrified. "Oh God. This is not good."

"Shut up," both Harry and Draco said in unison, still not completely reconciled with Anthony over the Buckbeak incident. Anthony didn't seem to notice, already fumbling with his shoes.

"Fine," said Harry, grabbing for his Weasley jumper and yanking it on over his worn and oversized pyjama top. "I won't do a bloody thing."

"Good."

"Great," said Harry, slamming the drawer of his nightstand, wand now gripped tightly in hand.

Draco brandished his own wand in Harry's direction, heedlessly spilling a shower of agitated black and gold sparks in its wake. "If I thought he was anywhere we could catch up with him and not get killed doing it--"

" _We_?" asked Harry, shoving it aside. "This is my fight, Malfoy. You can stay out of it all you want."

"I'm already a disgrace to the bloody family, I'm not letting you go after a mad Death Eater on your own," Draco hissed.

Harry's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

The door slammed open again and Anthony shot to his feet, shouting, "Ready!"

"Common room. Now," said Madley. "If you're missing when Professor Sprout calls roll, it's a week's detention."

Draco cocked his head toward the door after Anthony. Harry frowned and went.

"This isn't over," he whispered as they joined the crowd rushing down the corridor toward the common room.

"Trust me," grumbled Draco. "I know."

###

Once in the Great Hall, Harry and Draco scanned the room for Ron and Pansy, slipping away when the double queue of Hufflepuffs became more of a loose group. Pansy found them first, barreling into Draco without warning.

"He was in the tower," she said with a thinly disguised edge of hysteria as she pulled away from the hug. "Sirius Black."

Harry was still scanning the crowd. "Where's Ron? Is he alright?"

"Yes," Pansy nodded shakily. "He's with Flitwick and Dumbledore; there's--"

"Hey," said Hermione, appearing behind them. "We got away as soon as we could."

Neville circled around Harry, reached for Pansy's hand and squeezed it briefly, earning him a glare from Draco.

"Was it really Ron he came after?" Neville asked quietly.

Pansy nodded again, gaining composure in the retelling. "The tapestry near the common room entrance was shredded; so were the drapes on Ron's bed, but nothing else." She shrugged. "Black... Why would he go after Ron? He had a knife. Black could've killed him."

They stared blankly at one another for a long moment until Hermione ventured, "We were all at the Ravenclaw table at dinner... maybe he was already in the castle then? Watching..."

"...Because he was looking for me," said Harry, voice flat. Hermione nodded.

"Back to your houses, please," said Percy Weasley, holding his wand aloft in their direction. "Order must be maintained, no exception. You can gossip about it tomorrow."

"But-" said Hermione, only to be cut off.

"No exceptions. Not even for you. Move along."

Reluctantly the knot of friends broke apart and headed for separate corners. Hannah waved lamely from the section of the Great Hall currently earmarked for the Gryffindors, only receiving a few half-hearted waves in return.

Harry and Draco retreated to the Hufflepuff corner before anyone knew they'd been gone.

###

"Hey," whispered Harry across the short distance between his squashy sleeping bag and Draco's. The professors had been switching off between patrolling the rows of students bedded down under the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling and going out to secure the rest of the castle, and the last set of short, quick footsteps had just died away.

Only one gray eye was visible when Draco pulled the edge of the sleeping bag down.

"What?"

"What was that about, earlier?"

Draco managed to convey utter contempt with just that one eye as he muttered, "Your godfather trying to kill you and going after a Weasley instead because he's barking mad?"

Harry flinched, but didn't respond in kind, knowing he'd never get an answer otherwise.

"No, git. About your family."

"None of your business," Draco answered, and even the one eye was blocked from sight as he tugged up on the bag. "Go to sleep."

"Wait," said Harry, hazarding a quick look around before reaching out and tugging back down on Draco's bag, sick of the stonewall when it came to the topic. "Draco. What's going on?"

"It's... complicated," said Draco, a combination of angry, exasperated and defeated, rolling onto his side to better address Harry. "Not to mention entirely y--"

"Mister Malfoy," interrupted Snape, though the light from his wand seemed louder than anything he could have said. An unseen hand shoved Draco back down into the sleeping bag as Snape continued. "If you must suffer from insomnia, keep it to yourself or I will personally find for you adequate medication to control it." The light swung on Harry, who had to shut his eyes to keep from being blinded. "And you, Mister Potter, will keep your hands to yourself."

A smattering of quiet laughter from various points around them signaled that not everyone was asleep, though when the light from Snape's wand disappeared, so did all the sound in the area. Harry glared vaguely in Snape's direction, his attention drawn back at the small 'whoomf' of Draco rolling onto his back in the sleeping bag and covering his face with his arm. Without meaning to, Harry mirrored the move, though after a second, he pulled his forearm away from his eyes and stared at the stars above-- stars he'd never seen the like of until his first night at Hogwarts. It didn't seem as though it had only been two years.

Harry watched for a long while before he finally fell asleep.

###

"I hear Snape caught y--"

"Finish that sentence," said Draco to a Hannah whose braids were askew and a little fuzzy if still intact early the next morning, "and I will personally hex you ten ways from tomorrow. Possibly eleven, points and detention be damned." His eyes fell on Greg standing nearby with a ratty stuffed bear under one arm, and he lifted a single questioning eyebrow.

Greg shoved the bear at Hannah with Seeker-like speed. "I was only holding it for her."

Vince looked like he wanted to say something but had changed his mind and was moving on to the deep and weighty contemplation of impending breakfast. The tables finally rematerialized, but before everyone could take a seat, Dumbledore's voice rang out loudly over the room.

"The castle has been unequivocably declared free of any intruders. All students please take your place at your own tables in order by year. You will be allowed back into your common rooms and dormitories once the meal is concluded."

Hannah grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Ten o'clock in the library? I'll tell Hermione and Neville, you get Pansy and Ron."

"I've got it," murmured Harry, thumping Vince's shoulder as he walked away, circling the table the long way around to bump into Ron, who was at the center of a chattering group of Ravenclaws. At least, it was what passed for 'chattering' in Ravenclaw, which still precluded Harry's passing on the message. He found Pansy instead and leaned quickly over her shoulder.

"Library, ten. Bring Ron." He paused and took a better look at her. "Alright?"

After the barest nod to indicate she'd heard, Pansy cocked her chin at an angle that spoke volumes for just how 'alright' she was pretending to be and how ridiculous the question seemed. "Lovely," she said, already walking away. "Enjoy your breakfast."

Harry sighed and continued on a path that took him around near enough to the Head Table to see Professor Lupin sitting at his usual place, suddenly turning to scowl at Professor Snape to his right. Harry couldn't catch what had been said, but all Lupin did next was set his jaw and turn away.

"Potter. Find your mates," snapped Madley, and Harry's attention came right back to doing just that, finally dropping into the space that had been automatically left open across from Draco.

On Harry's left, Anthony was peering at his empty plate and muttering under his breath.

"Either Sirius Black was really in the castle or this is an elaborate dream, and if this is an elaborate dream then either my mum's scones and jam will appear any moment now, or else a bowl full of piranhas." He kept staring. "Aaaany moment now."

Instead, the usual assortment of breakfast foods appeared and though he was still perturbed, Harry did the only thing he could. He took a warm roll and tossed it to Draco with a weak smirk, then elbowed Anthony so that he would look up and present a better target.

###

Luna and Ginny sat in the Ravenclaw stands the following Saturday, each wearing their own house colors without conflict.

"I was so glad to hear Ronald made the team," asserted Luna with a nod, offering a glaring Ginny her bag of popcorn.

"Stupid. It's so unfair that he got a broom," Ginny grumbled. She took a handful and shoved it into her mouth, chewing and muttering, "mpfffngg sffohdnng bruvvr."

Unperturbed, Luna tilted her head as the Hufflepuff Chasers zoomed by, though admittedly, Harry had less 'zoom' than usual on the school broom he was using. "Who's to say you won't get one, too?"

Ginny slumped and swallowed hard, her eyes nominally on the action over the Pitch. "I'm working on my older brothers. Maybe for ohmygod--" she cut herself off and stood with the rest of the 'ooohing' crowd, dragging Luna by the elbow so suddenly the popcorn fell off of her lap and onto the bleachers below. Ginny didn't notice; she was busy pointing at the Ravenclaw goals. "Did you see that? That's my idiot brother!"

Luna cheered the spectacular save enthusiastically, though she cheered just as loudly when Hufflepuff rallied and scored past Ron, and yet again when he stopped another goal, and once again when Cedric Diggory cut Cho Chang off in a scary sort of dive that looked as though he might fall and plucked the Snitch right out of the air not five inches from her blue-lacquered fingernails.

###

"Pay up Hermione," said Neville, still applauding as Diggory made a victory lap of the Pitch, Snitch in hand.

Hermione swore mildly under her breath, though she too applauded Hufflepuff's victory. Hannah nudged her and muttered, "I wouldn't have taken that bet. Diggory would have to be dead for Chang to get one over on him. She's too busy staring at his arse."

This time Hermione flushed and elbowed her back, digging through her pocket once the applause died away. "Here," she said, dropping a shiny Galleon in Neville's pocket. "Well-played. Don't spend it all in one place."

"I'm sure that was an illegal move," said Pansy, frowning, the sole Ravenclaw in the Gryffindor stands. "Diggory shouldn't be allowed to nearly decapitate opposing players, no matter how dashing he looks while doing so. It's just... bad form!"

"These games are hard to watch," remarked Vince. Everyone turned their attention on him, but it was Greg that spoke next.

"Hard to pick who to cheer for." He grinned at Hannah. "I like it better when you're playing."

"Don't say that to Draco," said Pansy. "Not that I give a toss, since his team should by all rights have been crushed, but we don't need to start any more undue strife."

Neville laughed, took hold of her shoulders and steered toward the stairs while she pretended to rail further against the cheating Hufflepuffs (or perhaps she wasn't pretending). Hannah hopped lightly up onto the bench seat and made Greg give her a piggyback ride, her blond head easily visible over the crowd as she called for inconsequential passersby to 'make way or else' while Vince followed, still cheering on general principle. Hermione managed to lose them in the temporary crush, but wasn't concerned. They'd all be making their way toward the general direction of the locker rooms, and she could meet them there. Lost in thought, she stood back and let the main body of students make their way down the stairs before she even bothered joining the stragglers.

As she stepped off of the last wooden step, a pair of hands grabbed her from behind and swung her around the side of the stands, under the red and gold fabric and released her at full momentum, sending her sprawling onto the patchy turf.

"Ow, oof!" she grunted as she hit the ground, scrabbling to reorient herself and stand. Another pair of hands shoved her back down roughly before she even got a look at the first assailant.

"Jumped-up Mudblood," hissed a voice she knew was being disguised, though when she shoved the hair out of her face and rolled to her knees again, this time wand in hand, there was no one to be seen. Disgusted and a little afraid, she spelled the mud out of her clothes and tied her hair up again.

Her left hand went to the small lump under her jumper halfway down her chest, and she considered the pendant carefully. Just one turn and she could wait here, find out who it had been and put a stop to them. Maybe leave them tied to a post wearing the ears of a jackass they so deserved.

Instead, she sighed heavily and moved to peer out from under the flap of heavy canvas to ascertain that it was safe to make her way back out to her friends. There was a good reason _she_ had been given a Time Turner. She could be responsible, make wise decisions, use it only for schoolwork, prove that Slytherins could be trusted.

When Hermione rounded the south side of the Pitch, she could hear Tracey's grating snickers from somewhere nearby. Hermione tightened her fists further and repeated all those things to herself once again.

###

Harry slumped on the common room sofa furthest from the center of the raging victory party, empty bottle in hand. He didn't even start when Draco landed roughly against the back of the same sofa with enough velocity that it was certain he'd been shoved, though he wasn't complaining. He dangled a fresh butterbeer in front of Harry, peering sideways as he spoke.

"Did you miss it? We won. I know you're slow, but--"

Scowling, Harry took it, muttering thanks, but didn't take a drink.

"No, seriously. It was fantastic. I smoked the Weasel and then Diggory took out Chang. Hello?"

"No thanks to me," said Harry with a sulky exhale. Privately, he was mulling over and over the thought that his friends were probably lucky to be alive at all no thanks to him as well.

Draco stared at him as though he'd grown a third eye. "Even on that ancient piece of firewood, you fly better than most of the Ravenclaw team combined. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, it's annoying."

"I can't even get into town to buy a new broom! How am I going to fly like this the rest of the year?"

"Look, you're scaring the firsties," said Draco, cocking his head in some direction other than himself.

Harry turned to look and was rewarded with what felt like a pitcher of ice water pouring over his head.

"Gah-ah-ah!" he shouted, jumping to his feet, but Draco was long gone amidst a sea of happy faces and a localized tide of laughter. "That's it!"

He vaulted the sofa back and hit the ground running, cutting through the crowd to the dormitory stairs and swearing as he raced up to the dorms. The door was half-open, and he paused, choosing to peer in rather than crash through it in case of a surprise attack.

An owl was dropping another letter into Draco's hands. Harry shoved a lock of wet hair out of his eyes in time to see Draco tear it in half without reading it and toss it into the hearth. Harry scowled, wondering what if anything he could do about it if Draco refused to talk about it, and came up blank.

 _Then_ , Harry made as much noise as he could shoving the door open and stomping in, pointing and growling, "You are so paying for that."

###

They were all on a keener edge than they had been as of late. Hermione was still making a habit of dashing about and appearing from nowhere. Ron had been trying not to obsess over his lost first match as Ravenclaw Keeper on the heels of his attempted murder. Draco was snappish and tense every time the post arrived, refusing to even mention the contents. Hannah amused herself by constantly plotting some revenge on the Slytherins, and Neville found ways of reminding her to be more subtle while pointing out how best to strike. The only ones who seemed unaffected seemed Greg and Vince, who always offered up awkward greetings and then proceeded to be alternately amused by the chaos around them and frustrated by increasingly difficult revision.

Harry and Draco headed straight for the Gryffindor table that Saturday morning, right to where Hannah, Vince, Greg, Hermione and Neville were already seated, grim-faced and quiet. At first, Harry slumped down facing Hannah, muttered oblivious and sleepy good mornings, then took stock of the situation.

"...What happened?"

Hermione held out a bit of rough parchment bearing a message in what could only be Hagrid's handwriting. Harry held it up and Draco read over his arm, and both were quiet for a long moment.

"They sentenced Buckbeak to death?" asked Harry.

"Good riddance," shrugged Draco and set to serving himself from the trays at hand. When it became evident that only Vince and Greg were also doing so, he paused and looked up, toast in hand. "What?"

"It's not fair to pass judgment on Buckbeak for something that's not his fault," said Hermione, crossing her arms.

"Goldstein provoked him, and you know it," added Harry.

Draco set his forearm down on the table. "That's all well and good but I'm the one that was nearly killed and if there's one less monster in the world, oh well."

"He's not a monster, Draco," Hermione said, drowning out anything else that might've been said. "He's a creature, and he isn't responsible for what he did!"

"Then they ought to sack Hagrid and be done with it," said Draco. "But either way, I'm not fussed."

Their voices to were beginning to rise to a level that was attracting attention, but it didn't stop Hermione from saying, "It was just a scratch!"

Draco's toast hit his plate with an audible clank.

"I couldn't bloody well use my arm for a week! Snape made Longbottom do my prep work and then deducted points from both of us for being too sloppy. I could've been thrown off of the team for missing the trials. Quidditch, Granger!"

Neville's head snapped up at mention of his name, but he didn't say anything. He didn't get a chance-- Hermione was already on her feet and practically snarling over the table.

"At least you're still alive."

Draco sneered, egging her on. "Not for long if Professor Halfbreed has his way about it."

It happened without warning. Hermione pulled her hand back and slapped Draco hard across his cheek, and everyone in earshot gasped. Draco set a hand over the stinging mark, his eyes narrowed and on Hermione.

"You'll pay for that, M--"

Harry's hand closed over Draco's other forearm with a threatening sound. "Don't."

"Why don't you just owl your father and see if he can do anything about that, too?" Hermione said, snatching up her bag, stepping over the bench and stomping away past Ron and Pansy who had come up just in time to see the end of the scene play out.

Neville directed what was almost a glare in Draco's direction and stood, too. "I'll go."

"What the devil just happened?" said Ron as Neville followed Hermione out, grimacing in confusion.

Draco shook Harry's hand off and stood next. "We're all bemoaning the fate of Hagrid's pet monster and I'm playing the part of the villain." He shoved his plate loudly into whatever was nearest and walked away. Harry rolled his eyes and swore.

"Well?" said Pansy, cocking her head after Draco.

"What?" Harry shrugged. "He's not going to listen to me. I've tried."

"Oh for-- Potter. Maybe you're arguing the wrong point." Pansy scowled and followed instead, muttering as she went, "Maybe you just don't understand the right one."

Ron sat heavily, frowning after Pansy, too. "Some way to start a day."

"Buckbeak's been sentenced to death," said Hannah as Vince offered Ron the serving bowl no longer heaping with scrambled eggs.

"Wh-" said Ron, taking it and serving himself distractedly, his eyes darting to Harry. "Oh. Malfoy's dad."

"Yeah," said Harry, stabbing viciously at the sausages on his plate.

"Think I'd like him better if he were an orphan," muttered Ron, who then looked up at Harry, eyes comically wide. "'M'sorry, mate. I didn't mean--"

Harry held up a hand, voice tightly controlled. "I know."

Toast half-hanging out of her mouth but held tightly in one hand, Hannah watched them until it looked as though they might not kill one another.

"Who's up for some practice, hmm? Full contact, no Snitch."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, as plots tend to. (Harry + like, everyone else in the world. Gen.)

"Harry, hi!" Hermione exclaimed as she pulled the door to the Defense classroom shut behind her in a rush. "What are you doing here?"

Harry stared, confused. "Weren't you just in History of Magic? How-- how'd you beat me here?"

"Pfft!" she said with a dismissive wave. "Shortcut through the Library. Honestly. Anyway. I should go."

"Hermione, _I_ took that shortcut."

"Nonsense," she said over her shoulder. "I think I would've seen you if you'd been there too. See you at dinner!"

He watched her go, more confused than he'd started out... right up until the door pulled open again and Professor Lupin seemed genuinely surprised to see him.

"Harry! Hello," his eyes darted to the large clock. "Of course! I'd nearly forgotten. It's a good thing you were early." He stepped back from the open door. "Come in?"

"...Hi," said Harry as he did so.

"Miss Granger was just asking about the supplementary material regarding boggarts and identification thereof."

"She was?" Harry asked, knowing just how long it would take Hermione to get to the core of a problem and discuss it properly, and knowing full well it would take more than a few-minute head start. He tried to exert more of a show of nonchalance before he spoke again. "Yeah, she was really interested in that. Bet she was here forever."

Lupin chuckled. "A half-hour or so is hardly forever." He rolled up his sleeves and Summoned the dreaded trunk from the far corner of the room. "Ready?"

Harry was staring at the trunk in thought.

"Harry?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Yes, Professor." He drew his wand, took a breath and tried to clear his mind save for his truly happy thought. "Sorry. Go ahead."

###

"Ginny?"

Luna's airy voice wafted through the space between the two girls watching the courtyard filled with milling students-- third years and older. Typical for a Hogsmeade weekend.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever been to Hogsmeade?"

"Once. Mum met my brother Percy there once the first year he was allowed. You?"

"Oh yes." Luna tilted her head and watched a lone figure on the stairs across from where she and Ginny were wedged together on an overhang and in the shadows. "Dad took me there the summer before I started so that I wouldn't feel left out when the older kids went."

Ginny held the Moon Bounce Bubbles in one hand, hefting the lumpy weight of the cloth bag over the crowd of students below. "Cool."

"Do you suppose Harry's ever been?"

"Huh?" Ginny's attention snapped to Luna and then followed her line of sight to Harry sitting on the stairs and holding something she couldn't quite make out no matter how hard she looked. "No. I don't reckon he has."

The clock struck ten. Ginny pulled the string tie and released a tide of what appeared to be bright soap bubbles that floated lazily downward. Students regarded them with anything from glee to indifference until it became clear they were causing those who touched them to take huge, bouncing steps. Mass confusion resulted as people went after them or went out of their way to try and avoid them, while whole groups began taking those huge bouncing steps toward town. Ginny took hold of Luna's hand, bolted down the corridor and disappeared through the conveniently placed secret passageway they'd scouted earlier that week.

Through their own snicker-giggling, they heard Filch begin to bellow and laughter ringing throughout the courtyard, but they'd missed the moment that Harry stood, still frowning pensively, kicked the step above and made his way downstairs.

###

From their very visible position sitting on a high railing in the courtyard with a game board between them, Fred and George looked up when the bubbles began to fall and made a huge show of elbowing one another and shouting things like, "How about that, Gred?" and "That's quality work, there, Forge!" Filch came over to tell them off, though he had no evidence they were responsible and they'd been sitting there for long enough that they had a credible alibi. Professor McGonagall glared just as weightily, but was forgiven immediately, especially in that she was the one to convince Filch he in fact had nothing on them.

Fred and George thanked McGonagall in unison when Filch stormed off muttering about the good old days, and then slapped five as she turned away. Silently, they decided to finish their game before joining the bouncing horde and all was exactly as it should be... until they caught sight of Harry rounding the foot of the stairwell and heading back into the castle proper.

"It's a bloody shame," observed Fred.

"Too true," agreed George. "His Muggles just don't learn."

"More like, they don't care."

"Boy's got things to do in town, Freddy."

"A bloke shouldn't be kept from the fun."

"It's what makes 'em crazy."

"Death Eaters were unhappy as adolescents, it's a fact."

" _Filch_ was an unhappy adolescent."

"Filch skipped adolescence, and if he didn't, I don't want to know."

"Fair enough. We're in agreement then," finished George, though if anyone had been listening, no one would have known what they'd just agreed to.

"Absolutely," said Fred. He tossed his leg over the railing and hopped down, a half-step behind George.

"Oi," said George, slapping his arm across Harry's shoulder a moment later. "We've got something for you."

###

"Where do you suppose they go?" mumbled Ron around a mouthful of brightly colored ice cream.

Hermione swallowed her own, laughing as she corralled a bit of animal cracker that was attempting to escape her bowl. "No idea."

"And that doesn't bother you."

"Why would it?"

Ron frowned. "Come on. It's a little weird. 'Pardon us, please, we're on a secret mission from which we'll come back tired and red-faced and... _floaty_ '." He leaned in and pointed with his spoon. "If I didn't know any better and if Pansy were more like Parvati--"

"Stop there," said Hermione looking at him as though he were more than a little slow and not third in their class (after her and Pansy, of course). "First, everyone would know if that was the case, second, Nev's not like that and third, if they were, what business is it of yours?"

"None!" Ron said, coughing before attempting to say it again without squeaking. "None at all. It's just... weird."

"And what on earth do you mean by 'floaty'?"

Ron colored, shrugged and stabbed at his ice cream. "They just seem... happier."

"Who's weird and happy?" asked Hannah taking a seat at Ron and Hermione's table, holding a waffle cone filled with something swirled bright orange. Vince and Greg waved and pulled up chairs, too, carrying cones that were easily twice as big as the one Hannah carried, and were already being devoured gladly.

"Pansy and Neville."

"Hee, yeah. All the snogging does that."

"They don't snog!" said both Ron and Hermione, indignant on their friends' behalf.

"Ohh--k," said Hannah, clearly unconvinced. "Why don't we just find out for sure?"

Ron scratched the back of his neck and Hermione chewed her lip.

"I suppose we could," Hermione finally volunteered.

"I say we split up and scatter through town until we find them," said Hannah, taking a decisive bite. "They're supposed to meet us at-- noon? That gives us an hour to find them, and something to do to fill it!" She paused and looked around. "When did we lose Malfoy?"

"Pfft," said Ron. "Question is, why do we care?"

Vince and Greg sat up and looked at one another and Ron backpedaled.

"I mean, he can take care of himself. Maybe he just decided to stay behind with Harry."

Hermione and Hannah exchanged yet another look and Ron tried again.

"Maybe he's got a 'secret mission', too?"

That one went over a little better, and so on that note, Ron scooped the last of the melting ice cream into his mouth, clapped his hands and stood.

"Alright. Let's go find Nev and Pansy."

###

It had taken long enough to decide who was going where, mostly because of the indignance on Hermione's part at Ron's suggestion that neither she nor Hannah go alone. Frankly he was likely lucky she put her foot down before Hannah had, as Hannah's foot might've landed somewhere more painful for Ron than the ground.

As it turned out, Hermione was alone, but compromised by taking the most well traveled stretch of the Hogsmeade high street and larger side streets. Hannah and Greg started at the Shrieking Shack, Ron and Vince at the opposite end, both groups set to meet in the center and theoretically with Hermione near the Three Broomsticks.

Casually, Hermione strolled along the street, looking in through windows, taking mental notes as to where she'd been and what she'd seen for the after-lunch shopping expedition. She saw many students she recognized with a few locals mixed in, but no sign of Neville and Pansy. She turned the corner to work her way down the side street upon which the post office stood along with several, more specialized shops, but when she was sure it was a dead end, she also became convinced that there were in fact footsteps following along behind her.

She tightened the grip on her wand in her pocket and hurried without running. About five meters from the door of the post office, she turned to face whoever was pursuing, only to find no one about. An older couple across the cobbled lane paused and gave her a strange look, then went about their business. Hermione took a deep breath.

Then used that breath to scream as a face materialized out of thin air right in front of where she'd been standing.

"Shh!" said Harry, letting the cloak shut around him again. The couple across the street paused again.

"Alright, there, young lady?" called the man.

"Rat!" Hermione offered up lamely. "I don't like them."

"Strange," he said, but the woman with him shook her head, agreeing with Hermione's assessment and calling out to her next.

"Careful then. I'd head back to the high street if I were you. Good luck, luv!"

"I will, thank you," said Hermione with a wave, smiling until they were both safely turned away. Then she swatted in the general direction Harry had been standing, gratified when she made contact with something solid and not exactly caring what.

"What the devil are you doing here?" she hissed, looking up and down the street to make sure no one else was around to notice.

Harry was busy laughing, so she swatted again, this time striking nothing but air with a frustrated growl.

"Ugh!" she said, following the sound of laughter and fighting off a smile of her own. "Potter!" She hissed, swatting again, encouraged when she caught the edge of his cloak. "You little--"

"I give!" he said with a laugh, catching her wrist. "You caught me!"

Taking advantage of knowing his location, Hermione smacked him with the other hand.

"You could get in so much trouble for this!"

"Have to get caught, first."

"Entertaining yourself, Mudblood?"

Hermione started at the third voice, and turned to find Tracey, Lavender and Eloise watching her.

"Don't see why not," she said with a smirk. "I'm better company than the three of you combined."

When the hail of wet, muddy snowballs from an unknown source began, all Hermione could do was laugh.

###

Breathless, Hermione trotted up the street toward the Three Broomsticks accompanied by a curious empty space traveling in her wake. Ron and Vince were already there as was Draco, but no Hannah or Greg.

"Hi," she said, suppressing a grin. "Any luck?"

"Nah," Ron shook his head. "We found Malfoy."

Draco shot him a dark look. "I wasn't lost, Weasel. It's noon, I was already on my way."

"Joy," mumbled Ron.

Just then, Neville and Pansy came into view around the corner of the building, Neville carrying a paper bag, and Pansy was taking a long waltzing step, hurriedly bringing herself back in line when she realized she was being watched.

"Hello," she said, rubbing her hands together as she walked up and planted a kiss on Draco's cheek. "Are we all here? I'm simply parched."

Neville shifted the bag from one hand to the other, then offered a wave up to the group in general.

"Me too," said Harry, and everyone's head came up, searching about for the source.

"Hi," he said, and this time his hand was visible when he waved. Hermione shoved it down and looked around to see if anyone had seen.

"Honestly!"

"Altogether not the best idea you've ever had," observed Draco. "Still, now that you're here--"

Hannah and Greg rushed up to join them, flushed and grinning. "Sorry. Had to stop and adjust an attitude or two." She paused and looked over her shoulder. "Can we get inside please?"

"Hi, Harry," said Greg cheerfully.

"How'd you know he was there?" asked Hermione, brow furrowed. Greg looked just as confused.

"There's just the right-sized space there," he shrugged, pointing to where Ron and Hermione had automatically left a space for him between them. "And Draco was talking to him."

"That's great. Greg's a bloody genius, I've always said," Hannah said with a grin, patting his arm fondly. "Inside, please?"

###

Later, Harry and Draco let themselves into their dormitory, shedding cloaks and talking excitedly about everything that had gone on in the village, trying to stay quiet and not give away the fact that Harry had been there, too. Mid-sentence, a huge, familiar eagle owl swept into the room, dropped a letter into Draco's hands and cruised out. The color and cheer drained from Draco's face on contact, and he looked away, swearing under his breath.

"Alright. That's enough," said Harry, snatching the letter from Draco's hands and stepping up onto his trunk in two quick moves in order to hold it properly aloft. "Talk."

"Give it back, Potter," Draco said with a scowl, making a futile grab for it.

"No. Not until you tell me what the devil's going on."

Draco hopped onto the other end of the trunk, but Harry vaulted the footboard of his bed and landed with an exaggerated bounce on top of the black and gold covers, steadying himself on one of the corner posts.

"It's none of your bloody business! That's mine!"

He followed, but Harry was already hopping down onto the rug, one step ahead and backing away. "You're not even reading them! I saw you pitch the last two into the fire!"

"Spying now, too?" asked Draco, hitting the ground indignant and flushed.

"Maybe," said Harry with a nasty, wry smirk. "I guess you're not the only one."

Draco snarled and threw himself at Harry, landing a solid grab around his middle and sending them both slamming into Anthony's trunk across the way. Harry hit the top with an 'oof', shoving at Draco as his feet swung off of the ground, only doing enough to bounce back and hit the ground next in a tangle of thrashing arms and legs.

"Get- Off!" growled Harry, twisting viciously to try and get away as his back hit the ground, well aware he was close to pinned.

"I HATE YOU," Draco shouted, shaking him hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

"Wh--"

Harry stopped when Draco's fist connected with his jaw. Stunned, he let go and stopped struggling long enough for Draco to shove himself up and away, snatching the envelope up from where it had fallen to the rug. Harry scrambled to pop up into a crouch, slowly straightening, staring at Draco.

"What the bloody hell did I ever do to you?"

"This." Draco brandished the letter. "This is all your fault!"

"Your dad being a creepy bastard is _my_ fault?"

The letter crumpled in his hands as Draco turned his fierce scowl on Harry, "Don't you _dare_ talk about my father like that!"

"Why the hell not?" Harry shouted. He took a step closer, speaking at a lower volume though he nearly spat out the words. "He tried to kill Ginny Weasley. He almost got us all killed! He was probably there when Voldemort killed my parents!"

"He's my father, you imbecile!" Draco shouted right back. "He-- he taught me to ride and play chess and was always proud of me until I came here. Because--" he threw his hands up, "--because now I'm the biggest disappointment in his life and he's still trying to correct my behavior. He _still thinks he's doing the right thing_."

"I have news for you! He isn't! You and Pansy saw it for yourself!"

"And I never would have it if weren't for you!"

Harry stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You'd rather have just... followed along blindly? Because it would have made your life easier?"

"I don't bloody well know!" Draco huffed, clearly at a loss. "Maybe I would. Maybe I just want him to stop looking at me like I've failed him."

"I can't believe you," said Harry with a disgusted grimace.

"Neither can I." He shoved the letter in his hand at Harry. "Try believing that instead."

Eyes still on Draco, Harry snatched it back.

"Go ahead. Let me give you the abridged version-- 'Pure blood is to be prized; you've been put where you are so that you can work to make the Potter boy see the right of it and carry out your family's legacy. If you cannot do so, I will take harsher measures to correct your own wrongheaded thinking, etc.'"

"That's ridiculous," said Harry, turning the unopened letter in his hand. "He's mad."

"Maybe so, but he's still the one that decides whether I go to Durmstrang next year. The only things that keep him from trying it every time you and I get up to something spectacularly stupid are my mother and the fact that he wants me within arm's reach."

Harry looked up in alarm. "He wouldn't really do that, would he?"

"He would," said Draco, finally meeting Harry's eyes.

"We have to go to Dumbledore," said Harry, though the suggestion rang hollow even as the words left his mouth.

"And tell him what? Should I ask him to adopt me because I disagree with my dad?"

Harry fell silent, his eyes sliding to the hearth. He made to hand the letter back to Draco, who flatly refused it.

"I don't want it."

"So tell him what he wants to hear," said Harry suddenly. Draco scowled at him, rubbing absently at the knuckles of the hand he'd used to hit Harry.

"Lie."

"Lie," agreed Harry, stubborn and without hesitation. "Until you don't have to."

It was Draco's turn to think quietly until he finally said, "Not argue with the rhetoric. Write back that I'm trying to ingratiate myself with you in order to make myself indispensable."

"That you _have_ seen the right of it, and you're putting up with a lot because of it," supplied Harry.

"That last one's true," said Draco.

"Piss off," Harry said distractedly.

"If I do this to my father-- there's no going back. He'd never forgive me if he found out. _When_ he finds out."

Harry met his eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," breathed Draco, and turned away.

"Okay?" said Harry, following. "Wh--"

"I need to think," Draco snapped, snatching at the broom his father had bought him. "I need air."

Harry stopped in his tracks and nodded as Draco took his gloves and hat from the side table, stalked over to the window and disappeared out into the afternoon without another word or a backwards glance. When Harry finally turned his attention to the letter in hand, he found that it was smoking, his handprint a charred shade of sepia where he'd been clutching it to his side.

The door clicked open and Harry looked up with a start.

"Is it safe?" said Anthony from the doorway.

"What?" said Harry too quickly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You could... err. Sort of hear the shouting in the corridor. Theo gave up and went to the Library, but I, um. Needed my book bag."

"Shite," breathed Harry, kicking at his trunk. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing!" said Anthony, pulling the door shut behind him. "Nothing at all!"

"Goldstein."

"Come on!" said Anthony with a hint of panic. "You know how these walls are-- we heard commotion and shouting, but y'know. Couldn't hear actual words."

Harry breathed a sigh of short-lived relief. He crouched and shoved the singed letter into a book and then into his trunk.

"What-- err. What _were_ you arguing about?"

"Don't worry about it," muttered Harry as he locked his trunk again.

"But, I mean, you and Malfoy-- you're thick as thieves."

Harry stood suddenly, making Anthony jump back as though he was about to be struck.

" _Philosophical disagreement_."

"Okay!" said Anthony, taking a big step back. "None of my business. I get it."

"Good," said Harry, who stalked out, down the stairs and headed in any direction that could be described as 'away'.

At about the time Harry was walking out of the common room, Daphne's head popped around the doorway of the dormitory.

"Did you find out what all that was about?" she asked, eyes alight.

" _Philosophical disagreement_ ," repeated Anthony, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder.

"What about?!" said Daphne, suddenly pulling away from the wall and standing up straighter.

Anthony lifted his chin, walked out into the corridor and offered Daphne his elbow.

"A girl, of course. What else?"

###

"I may have to include you in my fantastic tales. It's your own stupid idea and I'm not sorry. And I'm borrowing your bird."

Half-asleep, Harry blinked at the blurred shape in the opening of his bed curtains that could be none other than Draco. And either Hedwig was perched on his forearm or he was holding a giant ball of wriggling snow.

"Okay."

The curtain fell shut and he could hear the window being slid open and then quickly closed again.

"If I'm lucky," said Draco over the telltale thumps of his shoes hitting the rug. "I won't live long enough to regret this."

###

Pansy greeted Draco the next morning on the way to class by throwing her arms around his neck, leaving him raising a confused eyebrow over her shoulder at a smirking Ron.

"Draco, darling, good morning!"

"Err. Good morning, darl--"

"And Harry!" she said, and Draco narrowed his eyes, catching onto her little farce. "Hello, love!"

Pansy took Harry's hand and kissed him on the cheek, and he flushed from neck to hairline. "Hi, Pansy."

"It's so good to see that the two of you could get over your spat over me. I'm flattered, but I'd hate to be the wedge driven between you."

"Parkinson, you are out of your mind," said Draco. "Can we please go to class now?"

"Pansy," stammered Harry, his fingers still wedged between hers. "Why?"

"The school is positively abuzz. Apparently the two of you were fighting over a girl, and currently the rumor mill betting pool has slightly better odds on it being me as opposed to Abbott and far better than Granger, which I must say, pleases me more than it should."

Harry turned to Ron for support, who was still too amused to do anything but shrug. "Beats me, mate. Creevey burst into the common room last night dying to tell the story, but it turned out half of everyone there had already heard it. Only in his version, there was a fistfight, and Malfoy here's supposed to be limping about. Oh! And a duel to the death scheduled for midnight."

"Pfft!" said Draco, but Ron was already leaning in to examine Harry's jaw.

"Hold up. Is that a bruise?"

Harry turned away quickly. "No. Let's go."

A group of giggling fourth years walked past just as Ron turned a murderous glare on Draco.

"Oh Ron! Don't be like that," said Pansy loudly. "One day, things may work out for us!"

A muffled gasp came from the group, and it predictably began moving faster to somewhere the new information could be disseminated. Pansy dissolved in overly amused laughter. Ron couldn't stop glaring at everyone, Harry looked embarrassed and Draco just pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can we please go _now_?"

"Ha!" said Pansy, tugging a hapless Harry along behind her. "I win."

###

It was finally Christmas and Harry sat cross-legged on the hearth rug across from Ron, scowling around the Chocolate Everlasting sucker that was hanging out of his mouth at his handful of cards. A steady supply of snowflakes fell slowly, circling and bumping against the window and either gathering on the sill or rolling off to continue the short journey downward. The Burrow was warm and smelled of biscuits and vegetables and goose and who knew what else, and Harry was willing to try it all.

"Flrk," groused Harry. He set a card on the discard pile and shifted the sucker to the other cheek. Ron sniggered and took the card, made a complex arrangement of his own hand and then set them all down at once.

"Gin."

The cards in Harry's hand buzzed and gave him what felt like a mild shock, and he dropped them with a swear, just barely catching the sucker as it fell out of his mouth and before it could land on his new Weasley jumper. Ron fell back against the sofa laughing.

"My brother is a genius."

"Git. I thought they were from Zonko's?" said Harry.

"Yeah. A particularly inspired Christmas present from Charlie. 'M going to have to hide them from Gred and Forge."

"You won't always win," said Harry, unfolding his legs and stretching them in front of him.

"Did somebody call me?" said Ginny, rounding the foot of the stairs with a short hop.

"Yeah," said Ron offhand. "You did say 'git' a second ago, Harry. Got to be careful with that."

"Oh, stuff it, Ron," Ginny, already back in motion and heading toward the food smells. "You're not all that clever, Ravenclaw or n--"

A squawk sounded from the kitchen and a huge, grumpy-looking owl swept into the sitting room. Harry tried not to look terrified as the bird made a beeline for him, dropped a medium-sized package into his hands and went directly back out the same way he'd come, this time to the tune of Mrs. Weasley's shouting, "My word!"

"Wasn't that Malfoy's owl?" asked Ron, also staring after it.

"Yeah--" said Harry, already working on the letter attached. The handwriting was immediately recognizable.  


>   
>  _Potter,_
> 
> _Mother asked me to extend her sincerest apologies for the lateness of your gift. Brutus has been busy running errands nearly nonstop past two days and though I have no idea what he's up to, I know he 'wasn't to be distracted'._
> 
> _At any rate, you'll be pleased to know that the discussion you and I had has finally yielded some results. If nothing else, it seems to have brought everyone some peace of mind. For the time being. That's the operative phrase, I'm afraid._
> 
> _You'll be even more pleased when you open the package. I got one too, and it's possible that above-mentioned conversation had something to do with both. It's possible too that it may have been the best idea I've ever had. And it's also possible I was supposed to have sent this an hour ago. It's in fact probable that if you send a reply, I may not answer it for a while. You may want to open the small one first._
> 
> _Happy Christmas,  
>  DM_
> 
> PS: The lumpy one's for the Weasel. Wish him my ~~in~~ sincerest holiday greetings while you're at it, would you?

  
Harry shoved the letter into his pocket in a rush and ripped the paper off of the package. It came apart into three pieces, the larger one of which expanded and pulled into a long, rectangular box wrapped in dark green paper boasting sparkling stars.

"Here, Happy Christmas," said Harry, shoving the lumpy package at Ron as per the note's instructions. "Why would he need a new one?" Harry stared for another long moment before laying into the paper on the big box he recognized well-- it was just like the boxes he and Draco had received first year (once they'd been liberated of the Shapeshift Paper). Clutching his own gift, Ron leaned forward, peering as closely as Harry was, but Harry wasn't paying attention to anything but the task of unwrapping. "It's not like his was completely destr-- oh my _God_."

Ron gasped when Harry pulled the broom out of the box, the inlay on the dark woodwork of the handle proudly proclaiming its make and model.

"Harry-- bloody hell, that's-- that's a-- bloody hell!"

"LANGUAGE, RONALD!" called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen, though how she'd heard him was anyone's guess.

"It's a Firebolt," breathed Harry, awestruck and having completely forgotten about the smaller box. A shimmering tag hung from the handle; an elegant monogrammed 'M' on one side, on the other a message wishing him a Happy Christmas from Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. "I--"

Could he in good conscience take something like this from Lucius Malfoy, knowing what he did about the man?

"Can I touch it?" said Ron, mouth open and still staring, gift set aside.

"Sure," answered Harry distantly, torn, but... it was just... _perfect_. And he couldn't very well send it back without giving Draco's lies away, could he?

"Here," he said after another second and handed it to Ron, who held it like a baby. Harry shoved the wrapping paper aside and it crumbled in on itself, taking the packaging with it and disappearing with a 'pop'. All that was left in its wake was the smaller package, about the size of a wand box with a note written directly on its plain paper wrapping.

>   
>  _H-_  
>  What you still won't know is appalling, but it's the best I could do.  
>  -D  
> 

"Must be nice," said Ginny, openly scowling. "Maybe I should suck up to snotty Pureblood rich kids to see if I can get one too."

"Gin, don't be like that," said Ron, eyes riveted on the precious object in hand.

"Like how? And what's that?" she said, pointing to the box Harry held. "A deed to your own country estate?"

Lifting his chin, Harry reflexively stuck the box in his pocket and away from her scathing glare. "If it is, you'll never know."

"Now, what exactly is all this commotion?" said Mrs. Weasley, wiping her hands on her apron as she entered the room. "What've you got there, Ron, hmm?"

"Harry got a Firebolt from the Malfoys!"

What might have been disapproval flickered briefly across Mrs. Weasley's cheerful face, gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Well, that's very... thoughtful, after what happened to your broom."

"Mum. It's not just a broom. It's a _Firebolt_. It's what all the professionals are using this season!" raved Ron.

Harry slowly got to his feet, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, here, mate. Thanks," he said, taking it carefully from Ron. "It's thoughtful, for sure."

"Whatever," said Ginny, speaking directly to her mother.

Mrs. Weasley shot a reproachful look after Ginny, who turned and ran back up the stairs, then shifted that same look on the broom. Her expression didn't soften until she smiled at Harry.

"It's just lovely, Harry. May I?"

"Uh. Sure?" said Harry, confused as he handed it over.

Mrs. Weasley set it on the sofa, drew her wand and flicked it toward the Firebolt, incanting three or four words strung together in a spell he didn't know. The broom levitated and began to glow faintly blue.

"Mrs. Weasley?" said Harry, just as Ron said, "Mum!" a full octave higher than his usual speaking voice.

"It'll just be a moment, Harry dear," she said, sounding distracted. She tossed several other spells in the Firebolt's direction, examining it from every possibly direction as she did. "It's nothing at all. Just a little scan of sorts."

Nothing further happened. She shrugged and pocketed her wand. "I _am_ sorry, Harry. I had to check. You're supposed to be safe here, you know."

"Mum--"

"I know, I know!" she said, deflecting Ron skillfully. "I'm hopelessly old-fashioned. Now," she plucked the broom out of the air and handed it back to Harry. "Why don't you boys get your coats, gloves and hats and go out for a fly, hmm? Not too high, now, and don't go too far. Be back within an hour for tea."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look and then ran for the hat rack that resembled a small tree, only rooted both top and bottom between the floor and ceiling. It wasn't until Mrs. Weasley sighed and disappeared into the kitchen that Harry spoke again.

"What was that about?"

"She's been asking for a broom all year," said Ron, shrugging and lowering his voice. "Bill and Charlie said they almost bought her one, only Mum told them she wasn't allowed until at least next year. She'd be a right menace if she knew _that_."

"And your mum?"

"Good idea, she had."

Harry looked confused. "But you--"

Ron paused in the middle of buttoning his jacket and raised his eyebrow at Harry. "It came from Malfoy? Malfoy's _dad_? Ring any bells?"

"Well, yeah, but... a little obvious to try and send a cursed gift. Isn't as if there wouldn't be witnesses _here_. Everyone would know he'd done it."

"Maybe. And maybe you'd mysteriously fall off of your broom like you did earlier this year, only this time break your neck because you were going so fast on your new broom."

It was Harry's turn to pause. "Oh."

"Yeah," said Ron as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He tugged his hat on next, leaving his hands on the ties. "Hey. What was in the other box?"

Honestly, Harry had forgotten about the other gift. He stopped and pulled up the box that was sticking out of his pocket, tore the wrapper, and flipped it over in order get the top half off.

"It _is_ a deed--" said Ron, eyes huge when he caught sight of the roll of parchment contained within.

Harry was almost ready to believe it until he pulled it from the box and began to unroll it. "A painting?" He blinked at the spidery structure covering half of the surface. He turned it lengthwise, tilting his head until it sunk in why his own name was at the center. "Ron-- look."

Ron craned his neck to see around the page and took a moment before he too understood. "That there-- that's your family tree! The Potter side, anyway, but there's space for your mum's side."

His fingers ghosted over the neat lines connecting him to his dad (James Alden Potter, 1960-1981), his grandparents (Aurelia Celestine Potter nee Cantwell, 1915-1978 and Harold Augustus Potter 1911-1978), thin branches that split off showing where earlier family members had married into families like Bulstrodes, Abbotts, Parkinsons--

"Look! Weasleys!" said Harry. "What is that, third... uncle, somewhat removed?"

"And Malfoys," said Ron, pointing at where some far outlying cousin had married a Malfoy. "Blimey."

"How'd he find all this?"

"Pureblood families are easy to track."

"Huh?" said Harry, not quite able to tear his eyes from the parchment.

"Well," Ron grimaced and inclined his head toward the tree. "If you want to say you're Pureblood, you sort of have to be able to prove it. And the Potters-- they're an old family. You could've just walked into the Ministry and asked for the Hall of Records, and then taken a lot of notes. And hopefully hit a few people on the branches that have already made themselves a tree and submitted it for public record, and then you could've just copied the bits you needed. 'Course, it still might've taken a few days to find all of the information, and then a few more to write it all down if you're doing it without magic... And let me tell you, it takes a little bit of forever to get the fussy little handwriting just right. But you could've. _Anyone_ could've."

Harry stared, processing the information. "Hang on. How do _you_ know?"

"Oh. Mum and Dad made us each do it the summer before we started at Hogwarts. They say it doesn't make us better than anyone else, but we still ought to know where we came from." Ron looked embarrassed, glancing about to make sure he wasn't overheard. "Only I copied most of mine from Charlie's old tree. He's my favorite brother, have I mentioned?"

"Right." Harry shook his head, bemused. "Wow."

"Feel sort of like a tosser for having done, now, though," Ron added, wearing pensive expression. "For one, it's not very Ravenclaw. For another, Malfoy wouldn't have surprised me with that business about being related. I, err. Might have to do it again." He grimaced. "Ugh. There are loads of us, though. Lot more than this."  
  
"Boys!" called Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. "Should I find chores for you instead?"

"No, ma'am," called Harry.

"Coming, Mum!" added Ron. "Put that away and let's go-- she's not kidding."

Harry rolled it up and set it back in the box. "I should put it upstairs."

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "You go, I'll run in and tell her you forgot your gloves and then I'll meet you outside."

"Ok," Harry agreed. "Ron-- one more thing."

"I didn't see anything," said Ron before Harry could ask, and adding before he could question it, "Are you kidding? My mother would start in about thoughtful children and--"

"Ron."

"--And Dad would twitch at the mention of Malfoy and people would wonder wh--"

"Ron! What are you talking about?"

"Err. Nothing?"

"I meant to say," Harry blinked at him. "You forgot to open yours."

"Oh! That. It's a great pile of Chocolate Frogs like it was last year," Ron said with a shrug. "We can make a sizable dent in them tonight after dinner."

"...How do you know?"

Ron shoved him toward the stairs. "What else do you do for people you don't really like, but don't necessarily hate? That much. Anymore. Anyway, go on." He jogged into the kitchen before Harry could ask why he shouldn't talk about his gift, but for once, Harry decided to leave well enough alone.

###  


> _Draco,  
>  It doesn't seem enough to thank your parents for the Firebolt. It's fair to say I've been mobbed over it ~~more than once to check for hexes~~ , which I suppose is fine since otherwise I wouldn't have spent an hour on the ground since it arrived._
> 
> _At any rate, I'm glad my idea helped, Firebolt or not._
> 
> _But bloody hell. We have Firebolts. Diggory is going to have kittens._
> 
> _Happy Christmas, mate,  
>  -Harry_
> 
> _PS: I don't know when you found the time to do all of that work, but the tree's amazing. I don't know when or if I'll ever be able to fill in the other half, but it's brilliant nonetheless. Thanks again._

  
###  


> _Harry,_
> 
> _Agreed. Now picture the look on Wood's face._
> 
> _-D_
> 
> _PS: Potter, please. I paid someone to do it. But it's the thought that counts, and all that. You're welcome, anyway._

  
###

"So you just _walked_ out?" said Hannah, somewhat gaping across the library table at Hermione. "We haven't even been back from hols a whole week!"

"More 'stormed', really," said Ron.

"I was thinking 'stomped'," said Pansy with a thoughtful look up.

Hermione glared at them both, and then turned her attention back to Hannah. "I did. I wasn't about to sit there and let her tell Neville that his Gran is about to die, or go on about Ron being 'in the Beyond'. The woman is mad as a hatter! And furthermore, never right. I'd be surprised if she'd ever actually Seen anything at all!"

"It's tedious," said Neville with a nod.

"Wow," said Hannah. "All that ever happens in our Divination period is Trelawney telling Harry he's going to die."

Greg blinked at Ron. "Are you ever really 'in the Beyond'?"

"No idea, mate," said Ron with a shrug.

"No," said Hermione. "He most definitely is not. Because it's rubbish."

"Oi, how would you know?" said Ron. "I might be!"

The library doors flew open faster than they ought, and Madam Pince shushed whomever it was barreling through them. Two well-practiced apologies later, Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Of course," she sighed.

Hannah pointed. "In five... four... three..."

"Hey," said Harry, tousled and rosy cheeked, tie still thrown over his shoulder as he appeared in their corner. "Sorry."

"Practice," agreed Draco, put together far better, though still grinning manically.

"Slytherin has the Pitch today," said Hannah. "Try again."

"Well. Racing around the school counts," said Harry.

"Got to get used to the new brooms, after all," agreed Draco.

"Ugh," said Hannah. "Stop there. I don't even want to hear it."

"I've let you borrow it!" said Harry.

"Yes, but I don't _have_ one, thus, I don't want to hear about yours," she said with a sigh, only half joking. "At least I'm Seeking. And at least Diggory doesn't have one. Punks."

Hermione looked up at the clock, bit her lip and then began packing her things into her bag.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've got an errand to run."

Ron furrowed his brow and examined the clock, too.

"It's only seven. We still haven't touched Transfiguration and I've got a load of work on Buckbeak's appeal for you to look at. It's not right-- me having to remind you."

Hermione hoisted her bag onto her shoulder with an apologetic shrug. "I have to go." She began to walk away, then paused, returned and held out her hand. "Give me the appeal file and start on Transfiguration without me."  
  
With an accusatory grimace, Ron dropped a thick file in her hand, causing it to drop all the way to the tabletop. "Suit yourself. The top five pages are the most relevant. _They're marked_."

"Excellent, _thank you_ ," Hermione said icily, and stuffed it in her bag as well. "I'll get it back tomorrow."

Ron muttered about disbelieving the nerve of some people as she walked away again, but was cut short by his own yelp of surprise. Crookshanks had thumped down onto the desktop in front of him from some unidentified shelf and was hissing in the general direction of Ron's pocket.

"You get away from me, too!" he said, shoving the cat off of the table.

With a last reproachful look, Crookshanks twitched his tail and followed Hermione out.

"That manky cat is as barking mad as she is," said Ron, who then came to the realization that anyone in vicinity who was not trying to stifle a laugh was just not paying attention. He narrowed his eyes almost too far to see, glared all around and opened his Transfiguration book with a violent snap.

Neville added quietly, "Dunno. I like the cat better than I do Transfiguration."

Hannah finally gave in to the snickering, as did Pansy and Draco, followed immediately by Vince and Greg who didn't quite know what was funny but everyone else seemed like they were having a good time, so it seemed like a good call. Harry set his bag down on the table and grinned widely as he took Hermione's vacated seat across from Ron.

"Maybe what you need is a dog, mate."

 _Then_ , Harry had to duck a flying book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monsters, creatures and family.

Hermione sat with an open book in her lap, legs crossed on the wide ledge of the courtyard wall. Harry and Neville had gone on to tea in the Hufflepuff common room, but she'd insisted that she had one more chapter to read, and had encouraged them to go on without her. Her hands were not shaking anymore but her attention was on everything save the pages at hand. In the end she didn't have to wait for long before she had reason to look up.

"You can't do this!" screeched Tracey Davis, the sound echoing down the pillared walkway in the wake of her being escorted roughly by a scowling Professor Snape. Her cry bought the attention of anyone within screeching distance. Hermione set her bookmark as leisurely as she could manage and watched from beneath an arched eyebrow.

A sniffling Lavender Brown dangled from Snape's other hand, or at least seemed to, whining, "I didn't do it! I swear!"

"We shall soon see about that," said Professor Snape in a low and threatening growl.

"What are you looking at, halfblood?" sneered Flint at a hapless onlooker as he was being escorted similarly by a nastily grinning Filch following behind Snape.

"Mister Flint, refrain from speaking again if you value the ability to do so." There was no describing Snape's tone as he beat Filch to the rebuke; it was terrifying to contemplate what the man might be thinking. Unsurprisingly, Flint said nothing more. Anyone with sense would likely have never spoken again. Ever. 

There was barely a hitch in Tracey's step as they passed, but the look she gave Hermione was pure murder. Snape's pace was steady as he led the way through the far set of double doors and back into the castle.

A seemingly shell-shocked Eloise followed into a courtyard that was already buzzing with gossip and conjecture, books pressed to her chest. Her eyes fell on where Hermione was collecting her bookbag, and Eloise's pace quickened until she caught up.

"Did you hear?"

Hermione paused, genuinely surprised that Eloise would bother to address her at all. She hefted her bookbag more securely onto her shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

"Tracey and Lavender. And Flint," Eloise stood with her shoulders forward, fists clenched around the spine of her book, her voice quavering with some mix of fear, anger and confusion. "They're being taken to Dumbledore. They could be expelled." She didn't bother to specify the transgression.

Impassive, though she felt as though she was about to be collected any moment as well, Hermione clamped both hands on the strap of her bag. "The house won't thank them for the lost points... whatever it is they did."

"They didn't do it! And-- and you know it!" Eloise said more desperately, though not at all more loudly. She clearly wasn't looking to attract attention either.

Hermione leaned in her direction and all but hissed, "Then they need to learn to make better friends. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned there." She dusted a nonexistent mote from Eloise's shoulder, suppressing a smile when the other girl flinched.

"Good day," Hermione said, turned on her heel and headed directly for the Hufflepuff common room.

###

Hermione had paused in the girls' lavatory on the way to Hufflepuff, mostly to splash water on her face and go over the details of her setup in her mind for the thousandth time. There was no way she had left any trace of her hand in the situation, and no way to be caught. Officially at any rate. Hermione was sure of it.

That said, by the time she'd lost the contents of her stomach and brushed her teeth, the news was all over school that Flint, Davis and Brown were suspected of anything from having collaborated to help Flint cheat his way into passing marks to conspiracy to harbor Sirius Black. Truth be told it was closer to the former than the latter, but from Hermione's point of view, one of the worst things a student could ever be accused of. Either way, she was preoccupied enough to ignore the usual suspicious stares and whispers when Harry let her into the Hufflepuff common room. 

"Where have you been?" asked Harry under his breath as he led her to their corner. "And did you hear what happened?"

"What? No," she managed, wearing a mask of earnest innocence and taking a seat in the wide armchair. "What's happened then?"

Neville took a seat on the arm, positioning himself so that he could watch the door while pretending not to.

Draco steepled his fingers in an oddly fitting gesture. "Well played, Granger."

"I'm sure I have no idea as to what you may be referring," Hermione said, though it took heroic strength to refrain from picking at the hem of her skirt.

"I wasn't sure you'd manage it," Draco continued with the nerve to look honestly impressed.

"Would you please be quiet, Malfoy," she attempted again. "I have no--"

"Flint, Davis and Brown," volunteered Harry. "They--"

Neville huffed a snort of laughter.

"--were caught... Hang on. You do know what happened, don't you?"

"Honestly, Harry, why would I know--" Hermione paused, realized her tactics were wasted on her friends and started over. "Plausible deniability. Nothing happened."

" _Brava_ ," Draco said, clapping his hands dramatically.

"Anyway," she said pointedly, "I have no idea how they thought stealing exam answers was a good idea, but I'm sure I don't care."

"Brilliant," said Draco. "Less than they deserve, but I'm afraid it will have to do for now."

"Wait--" exclaimed Harry, immediately he looked around before letting his attention rest on Draco, lowering his voice to finish, "How did you know?"

"I didn't," said Draco, beating Hermione to the answer for once. "But Granger had to make a big move and not be caught, thereby making it clear that she's not to be trifled with. By all accounts, she's managed it rather skillfully." He inclined his head toward her with a smirk. "My compliments."

"I didn't do anything, you understand." Hermione actually pinked and, feeling a little less perturbed, lifted her chin higher. "But if I had, I would have had an advantage, I'm afraid."

"More than half a brain?" offered Neville.

"That too," she said with the tiniest of grins. "At any rate--"

There was a commotion at the door to the Common Room and without further warning, Lucius Malfoy came through the door and made his way over to where they all stood. His attention was ostensibly on his surroundings as he approached, lip curled up, his habitual sneer in place and deepening.

"So this is Hufflepuff."

Several of the students in the room regarded the scene with interest, and just as many found that they suddenly had to be somewhere else.

"Father," said Draco by way of greeting and doing well enough at feigning nonchalance. "What are you doing here?"

"Draco." Lucius' gaze fell on Neville and Hermione, lingering for moment on their Slytherin badges. "Looking in on my son, of course. A pleasure to see you again, Harry. Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom, is it?"

"Good to see you, Mister Malfoy," Harry said without a flinch.

"Of course," Lucius murmured as Hermione and Neville offered up their own greetings. "I'm hardly surprised." Draco said nothing, he merely stood braced, attention on his father.

"I have business to attend to in the castle and realized that you would likely benefit from accompanying me, Draco."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The groundskeeper's filthy beast is being put down today, and I've been asked in to witness it." Hermione gasped and he added, "You had something to say, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was glaring at him, though Neville's hand clamped around hers reminded her to be calm. Her voice shook only a little as she ventured, "It's awful. And unnecessary."

"A truly deplorable business," Lucius said with much false sympathy. "However, one does what one must to ensure the safety of one's children. Get your cloak, Draco."

Draco hazarded a look at Harry in the moment that he hesitated before saying, "Yes, sir."

"Where are my manners?" said Lucius when Draco moved away to retrieve his cloak. "Did you want to come, too, Harry?"

"No, thank you," said Harry, jaw set and trying to remain civil. "I don't think I will." 

"I suppose we are not all suited for carrying out necessary justices. No matter. I am certain your time will come."

"I'll be back," Draco said, raising his chin and fastening the buckle of his cloak.

"Yes," agreed Lucius, setting a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. " _This_ time. Good afternoon."

Harry, Hermione and Neville watched them go, though it wasn't until the door shut behind them that anyone spoke.

"Git," breathed Harry.

"We can't just let them kill Buckbeak," said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry, rummaging in his bag until he found what he was looking for. "No bloody idea how we're going to stop them, but we have to try."

Neville looked away and said quietly, "This is the Ministry we're trying to stop. It could mean a lot more than house points."

"It's Lucius Malfoy we're stopping," said Harry, dead set on doing just that. "And the plan will not involve being caught."

After another short pause, Neville nodded, though he still appeared dubious. "Fine."

"You two go down to Hagrid's and scout the area," said Hermione eyes on the door. "I'll catch up."

"What?" asked Neville, alarmed. "Where are you going?"

Hermione shrugged, her fingers worrying the knot of her tie. "Arranging for backup. And a distraction. And possibly an alibi."

She threw open the common room door, only to find Ron and Pansy trying to negotiate their way in. Harry bumped into her when she stopped abruptly.

"Hermione!" said Ron, speaking roughly at the same time as Pansy.

"Harry," Pansy added, her face ashen. "Something's happened. Where's Draco?"

"I know," Hermione said with an impatient nod and tried to move forward again. "Buckbeak. Come on--"

"No--" said Ron, pulling back on her arm. "Trelawney." Face drained of color, he swallowed and shot a look at Pansy.

"She had a vision. A real one," said Pansy. "Something's happening tonight."

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "Buckbeak's going to be executed tonight. We have to create a diversion, and--"

" _You Know Who_ 's servant is returning to him," hissed Ron. "Tonight. Someone he needs to help him rise again."

"Lucius Malfoy is on the school grounds for the execution," said Harry, scowling and squeezing past Hermione. "And Draco's with him."

Pansy's eyes grew huge. 

"We need to stop them," breathed Neville. No one argued.

###

They paused their headlong rush at the end of the hall long enough for Harry to point in the vague direction of the library stairs.

"You're clear in that direction, Hermione. Head for Gryffindor and--"

"I've got it," Hermione said, already running and out of sight in a matter of seconds.

Harry shrugged and turned to Pansy.

"Alright then. Pansy you--"

"I'll take it from there," she said unequivocally. With a peck to Harry's cheek, she said, "Don't die," then poked Neville in the chest. "And you-- don't let him."

As she too ran off, Harry opened his mouth again and was interrupted by Ron.

"What are we waiting for, anyway?"

Harry pursed his lips and for once, said nothing as he resumed his run for the back stairs.

###

Ron was at the head of the pack as he, Harry and Neville raced down the corridors, so when he skidded to a halt, they also couldn't help but crash into his outstretched arms.

The familiar, manky figure arched her back and hissed violently, on duty and clearly annoyed. She began to stalk towards them, yowling for Filch.

"Shite, shite, shite," muttered Ron as they backed away slowly. After a quick pause, he added, "Here kitty, c'mere you nasty bag of bones, yeah, do you like... erm fish?"

"Ron--" Harry murmured urgently while still backing in perfect unison. "Have you lost your mind?"

Ron pulled his wand slowly, along with something from the opposite pocket. Mrs. Norris spat and made as if to pounce.

"No," Ron said with a grimace, his eyes on the grubby cat. "I'm going to transfigure. You and Nev are going to run."

Neville's eyes shot from the cat to Ron and then to Harry. Ron muttered a spell and suddenly whatever had been in his hand was dangling from a scaly tail. Mrs. Norris yowled piteously; a sound between a meow and a growl, as though torn between duty and dinner.

Harry met Neville's eyes and nodded.

"We'll meet you at Hagrid's," Neville said in a tone that brooked no argument. He shoved Harry and they kept running, ignoring Ron, Mrs. Norris and Ron's attempts to bribe her in some capacity, or at least hold her attention while they made their escape.

###

"Free the Care of Magical Creatures One!" cried Fred, carrying a sign that depicted a caricaturized hippogriff sporting huge, dewy eyes from behind bars.

"You'd have scratched the kid, too!" agreed George, his own sign boasting a slavering executioner carrying a bloody blade within a red circle and trying to peer around the line drawn across him.

"Buckbeak was a true educational experience!"

"Tell me you didn't learn not to piss off large, scary creatures!"

"Goldstein'll never do it again!"

"Raaah!" growled George, inciting the little crowd around him on the steps of the school consisting of about twenty-five students, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, a handful of Ravenclaws and a lone Slytherin firstie who looked confused and was likely in the wrong place.

"Would you watch what you're saying?" said Ron running up from behind them, clearly agitated and out of breath. He had performed three scouring charms to his hands and he still felt as though he smelled of the docks. "This is serious. What-- what is _that_? What is that sign?"

"Artistic interpretation," said George serenely.

"Lends drama and immediacy," agreed Fred in the same tone, then immediately whooped, "Free Buckbeak!"

Ron continued to stare at them in disbelief for a moment longer until his eyes slid to Hagrid's hut just down the hill and the badly concealed shape rushing toward it. "Next time, short notice or not, Hermione gets the final say on your signs."

"Short notice?" said Fred.

"Pah," George sniffed. "Hermione was knocking on our common room door an hour ago."

"Spur of the moment chaos has its place and all."

"But genius like this takes planning."

"Don't ask us where our mini-minions are."

"We'd tell but then we'd have to kill you."

"Reckon Mum wouldn't like that, Georgie."

"An hour?!" said Ron. "She only had a five minute headstart!"

"He's distraught, Fred," said George, reaching out to feel Ron's forehead with a hand that was promptly slapped away.

"Or every moment spent in her absence seems an eternity."

"'Sthat true, Ron? That's a right tragedy."

"You're mental, the lot of you," said Ron, taking a step back. "Just-- stay here and make as much noise as you can."

"Aye captain," said Fred with a salute.

"We'll hold the line."

"Teachers coming!" shouted Angelina from her vantage point at the top of the stairs. "Professors McGonagall and Sprout."

"I mean it," hissed Ron as he slipped through the students and through the first side passageway available.

He'd barely slid from sight when McGonagall stopped behind the crowd, planted her fists on her hips and exclaimed, "Exactly _what_ is the meaning of this?!"

###

Hermione ran crouched low along the lower path to Hagrid's hut just out of sight of the castle steps, knocking in a rush when she arrived at the back door. The curtain at the window moved slightly before the door opened, but she was too busy tapping at the face of her watch to notice. 

"I'm sorry it took so long- I think? Bother. I think I've overtaxed the poor thing," Hermione looked up at Hagrid in the doorway. "Are they here?"

"You shoul'nt be here Hermione," said Hagrid, his nose red and blotchy, his eyes pinched and tired. "None of you ought."

"We're staying with you, Hagrid," insisted Harry from behind him, stalwart and clearly already in possession of an oversized boulder-biscuit.

The shouting from the castle demonstration kicked up and Hagrid stomped down the steps and up the side of the hill to see what the commotion might be. He waved a huge hand in their direction, mumbling "Reckon that's not gonna go over well, bless their ‘earts."

"We're here to stop Malfoy elder," Neville reminded Harry quietly.

“I know, Nev, but we can’t just leave him,” Harry answered. “It’s not right.”

“Standing here waiting for detention is not going to help anyone.”

“Feel free to head back to the castle,” said Harry, testily

Neville eyed him, jaw set. “What exact help do you propose we offer, then?”

 

###

 

"Peaceful demonstration, Professor."

"We're dissatisfied with the situation."

"That's ridiculous. Everyone will report back to their common rooms immediately or I will begin assigning detention. Beginning with the two of you."

"We're not breaking any rules," said Fred sensibly.

"It's not dark, and even if it were, we're still technically in the castle."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes over her glasses at them. "Just how did the two of you know, at any rate? The staff was only informed half an hour ago."

"The nose knows, Professor," both Fred and George said simultaneously.

McGonagall continued to glare. "Back in your com--"

"Professor!" said another student, who was immediately subject to her doomful glare.

"Excuse me, but--" said Anthony Goldstein. "I-- I don't think Buckbeak ought to be put to death for my mistake. Even if we can't stop it, the Ministry should know how we feel."

"And it isn't as though Fudge is answering Anthony's owls, Professor," said Daphne just behind Anthony, delivering the line with wide, earnest, believable eyes.

Sprout exchanged a look with Professor McGonagall, and then set her hand on Anthony's shoulder. "That's very admirable, Mister Goldstein, but--"

"Pomona, a word, please?" said McGonagall, her tone less severe, though her eyes were still on Fred and George.

"One moment, children," said Sprout with a warm smile. Both teachers moved only a short distance away, but neither was intelligible thanks to a barely noticeable flick of McGonagall's wand. After a moment, Sprout nodded, McGonagall sighed and shrugged, and then both turned to face the assembled students. McGonagall crossed her hands in front of her and addressed them, eyebrow raised.

"The sun will set at precisely 5:35PM. I will return to secure the doors then, and anyone found on the steps at that time will be given a week's worth of detention. Which means that you are free to continue your _polite_ and _well-mannered_ activity for approximately twenty-one minutes. If anyone is heard to be abusive or rude, everyone will suffer the consequences. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Professor," most of the students chimed. McGonagall nodded firmly. "You two," she added, pointing at Fred and George. "Are responsible for seeing to it that the area is clear before I return. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," said Fred, though they both nodded effusively.

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"Hmmph," she said, snatched the executioner sign from George, turned on her heel and strode away.

Professor Sprout shot a look over her shoulder, then leaned in and stage whispered, "Good luck, children!" before following.

Fred cracked a self-satisfied smirk and turned to address the crowd with a rallying cry of "Free Buckbeak!" as George began slapping palms with everyone within reach.

###

Ginny tilted her head at the bag of raw meat that Dobby held up to Luna, who was beaming as though it were filled with candy.

"Buckbeak will be so pleased! Thank you, Dobby."

"Anything for Mister Harry Potter's girlfriends!" Dobby enthused.

Ginny snicker-snorted and answered under her breath, "He wishes."

"Maybe," said Luna thoughtfully, turning to address her directly. "But probably not. He has a lot on his mind. At any rate, if he were wishing for a thing like that, he'd probably wish for--"

Dobby cut her off, looking uncomfortably as though we were about to propose punishing himself.

"Dobby will just deliver… something. Now," he offered with some measure of forced brightness, and disappeared with a tiny, mortified _crack_.

"House elves are such strange and wonderful beings," Luna reflected. 

"Uh huh," agreed Ginny, already halfway down the corridor. "Right."

###

Pansy ran up the ascending steps to the Headmaster's office and nearly crashed into the Headmaster himself on his way down.

"Professor Dumbledore--" she began, prepared to pull out any and all stops, but Dumbledore was already speaking.

"You're absolutely right, Miss Parkinson. Our young mister Malfoy should not be witness to this evening's events." He set his hand on her shoulder and set off toward the wall at a brisk pace. Pansy only had a moment to wonder what was going on before the tapestry seemingly rolled up and became an arched doorway leading directly onto the lawns, and set them on a collision course with Lucius Malfoy.

"I-- yes?"

They rushed toward Malfoy, who was walking away from the castle at a brisk pace with Draco in tow, Fudge and McNair close behind.

"Lucius," Dumbledore enunciated carefully.

Draco's father managed to infuse even the mundane motion of stopping and turning in response with utter disdain and annoyance.

"Dumbledore," Malfoy purred. "Are you still here?"

"I, too, am often surprised by such turns of events, Lucius," agreed Dumbledore with appeared to be bemusement. Pansy did her best to stand in such a manner that Dumbledore blocked her from Malfoy's view, but it was not enough.

"Miss Parkinson."

"So pleased to see you again, Mister Malfoy," she said with her best smile-for-entertaining.

"Yes, now that the pleasantries are over with, if you'll excuse us--"

"I'm afraid, Lucius, that I cannot allow you to proceed," Dumbledore rumbled, sounding little more than pensive. Everyone stopped moving.

"It is against school policy for Draco to be out on the school grounds at this time of the evening. Young Master Malfoy, if you will kindly return to the castle with Miss Parkinson?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes to such an extent that it was likely impairing his field of vision.

"Stay right where you are, Draco," he said, almost succeeding at sounding nonchalant. "I'm afraid, Dumbledore, that he is my son, and I shall take him wherever I see fit."

"Normally, you would be quite right," Dumbledore said agreeably, "but I'm afraid that we do not have a request on file to withdraw Draco out of Hogwarts' care for the evening, and thus, happily, it is still in my power to order him back to the castle and away from a spectacle which--you'll pardon me, Minister-- is barely suitable for adults to witness." He cast a meaningful eye at Fudge. "Liability, you know."

"The hell you can," Lucius sniffed. He raised his cane to point at Dumbledore. "Draco will be--"

"Lucius," said Fudge, fidgeting and a bit deflated, looking caught between fearful and apologetic. "I'm afraid that he may have a point in that. You know, perhaps--"

For a fleeting moment, Lucius looked as though he might turn his outstretched cane on a Fudge who was suddenly done holding up his end of the conversation, but the energy was gone as quickly as it had gathered. 

"Of course," He swept the same withering glance from Fudge to Draco before addressing Dumbledore. His eyes were still on Draco. "It appears I shall have to plan ahead more thoroughly the next time I choose to spend time with my own son. Draco, do run along. We shall have to continue this conversation at a later date.”

“Yes, Father,” Draco said as respectfully and carefully as he could manage. “I look forward to it, sir. Excuse me.” He nodded his head slightly at the other adults present, and proceeded past the Headmaster as quickly as he could without running. Pansy fell into step next to him and they exchanged a heavy, meaningful look. 

Once they were out of the adults’ hearing range, Draco muttered, “Shite.”

Pansy carefully unclenched her fingers where they had been hidden in her pockets for what seemed to be hours and muttered back, “Indeed,” as Dumbledore, Malfoy, Fudge and the altogether too-cheerful executioner continued their slow advance to Hagrid's hut.

###

“Bless their ‘earts,” Hagrid repeated as he wiped wiping his face with a huge handkerchief of questionable cleanliness. He had finally turned his attention away from the the group of students at the castle entrance and was once again trudging up the steps to his hut, herding Hermione in as well. “Ain’t gonna do much to sway the Ministry, but it’s good of ‘em any rate.”

“I’m so sorry, Hagrid,” Hermione exhaled. She cast her gaze sideways to follow Harry, furiously reviewing their options for for escaping unexpelled, and whether saving Buckbeak was still an option. A flash of movement caught her eye on a shelf, and she caught sight of a very distinctive ratty tail disappearing behind two very large tea cups. “Hold on--” she muttered, sneaking up and reaching between the crockery for what was clearly Ron’s ridiculous pet. 

“Scabbers!” she grumbled at him. “You vicious little rodent! You let Crookshanks be framed for your murder!”

The rat faced her what she could swear was a look that registered comprehension, before biting down hard on the meat of her thumb. She squealed and dropped him, but immediately drew her wand and exclaimed, “ _Veriverto!_ ”

Where the rat had been, a single, perfect goblet lay on its side,

“So, that’s what that spell is useful for,” said Neville. Hermione frowned and tucked the goblet in the pocket of her jacket. 

“I wish Crookshanks _had_ eaten the filthy thing.”

"Yeh gotta go," said Hagrid, as he peered out of the window. Every inch of him was trembling. "They mustn' find yeh here. Go now; I’ve gotta be with Beaky when it..."

Harry looked miserable. “I’m sorry, Hagrid,” he said, as he stared unseeingly out the back window for a moment before really focusing on what he could see. His brow furrowed.

“...What are those two doing?” he mumbled to himself.

“Go!” the groundskeeper shouted. “I’m sorry, Harry. There’s nothin’ ye can do for ‘im.”

“I’m really very sorry, Hagrid. This was a bad business,” Neville said while reaching for Harry’s arm. “But getting expelled for being caught out here won’t help anyone,” he added for Harry’s benefit. Surprisingly enough, Harry put up no resistance, though it had more to do with who he was watching track through the scrubby woods behind the hut. 

Neville tugged at Harry’s jumper until he was close enough that Hermione could throw the invisibility cloak over all three of them, and they awkwardly managed to slip out of the hut, through the pumpkin patch and up the hill back to the castle by way of the Whomping Willow path. A handful of silent tears spilled down Hermione’s cheek, but she didn’t say a word until they circled to the side entrance to the Herbology greenhouses. Harry’s disembodied head peeked out from under the cloak, and Ron opened the door for them on cue.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Hermione,” he said without preamble, and without bothering to close the door behind them. It was a mark of how worked up he was that Crookshanks was winding around and through his feet and he had not bothered to shoo the cat away.

“Not now, Ron,” said Harry. His jaw was set as he leaned against the nearest planter. Ron ignored him.

“How were you at Gryffindor Tower an hour before we left Hufflepuff?” he said, gesturing wildly. “It’s not normal, and I am not imagining it, and I’m tired of you treating us all like we’re--”

Hermione actually slapped him hard across the cheek. The resultant look on his face was comprised entirely of shock and awe.

“I don’t answer to you, Ronald,” she spat. After a moment, she dug into her pocket, retrieved the goblet and shoved it hard at his chest. “And I found your stupid, filthy, useless rat.”

“Buh--” Ron sputtered, looking around for support, but Neville only shrugged toward Harry, who was staring distractedly off toward the groundskeeper’s hut. Crookshanks hissed.

The hut. Ron paled. “Oh. I erm-- I’m a right prat,” he let out a long, puffed breath. “Poor Buckbeak. I can’t believe they’re actually going to-- you know.” He realized he had very few hard feelings about the slap itself-- he’d grown up the second youngest of seven, after all. His ego might be bruised, but if there was one thing chess in Ravenclaw house had taught him, it was that defense of a poor position was only staving off inevitable defeat. Better to correct strategy early on.

Hermione turned her red-rimmed eyes on him, loathe to show weakness but filled with horror and sadness at Buckbeak’s impending demise and her utter inability to do anything about it. Ron did the only thing he could do and offered her a hand. 

Instead of accepting the offer, she took another step forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, hiding her face in his jumper and leaving him in the position of figuring out how to gingerly wrap his arms around her back. Neville caught his gaze over her shoulder, held it for a moment without comment, then turned his attention out through the open door as well. The commotion of the students at the main gate was beginning to fade, meaning that sundown was only a few minutes away.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she said after a moment. 

“I deserved it,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, I’ve been slapped loads of times.”

“You probably deserved it loads of times, too,” she said with a teary huff of laughter as she straightened up and pulled away. “And so does your stupid rat, by the by,” she added with a slight nod in the direction of the goblet he was still clutching. 

“Right! Scabbers!” Ron said with a smile. “At least we’ve still got him.”

“That thing bit me,” said Hermione with a grimace even as she wiped at her eyes. “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were rabid and mad and-- ugh. Senile and incontinent.”

Ron looked up from where he had just successfully transfigured the goblet back into a very confused, scraggly rat. “He bit you?”

The distraction was all Scabbers needed to leap from Ron’s grasp and run, his panicked squeaking and chittering trailing behind, followed closely by a hissing and spitting Crookshanks. 

“Scabbers, no!” Ron shouted as he ran out onto the lawn after the rodent, heedless of the time and sunset and the fact that he was heading in a beeline for the Whomping Willow. “Come back you sodding, stupid thing!”

Hermione and Harry exchanged a quick, disbelieving glance and then sprinted after him, the invisibility cloak streaming uselessly behind Harry. Neville set his jaw and did not follow. When he caught sight of the huge dog dragging Ron away, however, he did run straight for Professor Lupin’s office only to find it empty. 

Much as Neville disliked the idea, there was only one other adult to whom he could report-- his own head of house.

###

Shortly afterward, Harry learned who the real traitor was, had the satisfaction of stunning Professor Snape, defended the absolutely spineless piece of filth that was responsible for his parents’ death, discovered he had a godfather that did not actually want him dead, and subsequently lost him to a wild lycanthropic professor and was about to lose him again to dementors. He sat dumbfounded in hospital as Professor Dumbledore explained how no one would believe them; how Sirius was doomed because of the utter, total ass-backwards system that--

“Harry?” It was Hermione’s voice. He turned his attention on her, aware that he had tuned out some portion of the conversation in favor of sinking into despair over the unfairness of it all. So he glared at her.

“Miss Granger. I would say two turns should be sufficient to put this debacle to rights,” said Professor Dumbledore, turning his attention back to Harry. “Or at least, as right as it can be at this point.” Harry furrowed his brow at the professor, wondering if he had any skill at mindreading or if Harry was exactly that transparent. “Do not --and I cannot emphasize this enough-- _do not_ be seen. Good luck, children.” 

Harry tilted his head as the doors shut behind Dumbledore, followed by the unmistakable clicking of the lock being engaged. “Wha--” Hermione was already hopping down from her seat at the edge of a bed and tugging something free from her jumper. 

“I have no idea how this is supposed to work with both of us, and I had to swear on all that is good and holy to not misuse this, but--” she paused directly in front of Harry, holding a pendant of sorts in one hand, shifting from one foot to another, “--he honestly just told me to do it, and I would argue that is not at all misuse, and I suppose I already have but that was--”

“Hermione!” Harry said, reaching out and grabbing her forearm. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a time turner, mate,” said Ron, blearily from the bed on the far side of Harry. “Should’ve known. Makes so much sense now.” 

Harry shrugged at a chagrined Hermione. 

“I wish I could have said something earlier, I really do, and I’m so sorry,” she said to Ron, then quickly added, “And yes, that’s the idea, Harry. Err. Sorry about this, excuse me.”

With no further warning, she came in close and looped one arm around his waist, somewhat naturally forcing his arm around her shoulders. She crouched so that both hands could still reach the device in her hand that he could see was some sort of elaborate hourglass on a slim gold chain, and began turning it with precise movements. 

“Do not drive yourself any more insane than you are now!” called Ron, but he seemed to be speaking from farther away than he should be. He said something else, but Harry couldn’t make it out as the space around him and Hermione seemed to melt and reform. 

“What?” he managed once Hermione had straightened up and stepped away. 

“A time turner, Harry,” she said as though she were explaining to someone very, very slow. “I turn it, I travel back in time; one hour for every turn. Honestly, how do you pay attention to so very little?” 

Harry was still processing what Hermione had just said as she dragged him by the hand down the corridor and away from the infirmary.

"Hermione. Are you honestly telling me that we just... Traveled two hours backwards through time?"

They pulled up short at the massive doorway and she pointed into the distance towards Hagrid's hut.

"No, Harry. I'm showing you."

Harry's gaze followed her line of sight and his jaw fell open again. 

"That's-- That's us!"

Three very recognizable figures were running in half crouches towards the stout dwelling, and for one mad moment, Harry was struck with how useless those crouches were in disguising them from anyone who knew what to look for.

"Yes. Now, if we could just figure out how to get to Buckbeak before-- hold on." 

Hermione began to jog around the large meadow, in what appeared to be the beginnings of a circle around Hagrid's hut. The two figures he thought he’d seen before were sneaking equally unsuccessfully through the edges of the woods there-- slight figures, one of whom seemed to be possessed of bright red hair. 

"What the devil--" Harry muttered just as Hermione yanked him into the tree line.

"Head in the game, Potter," she said, her eyes hard and serious. "Yes. I have been time traveling one hour at a time all year, and it has made me rather testy. I would apologize, but I won't. Yes, you have just time traveled with me, and we're about to save Buckbeak and your godfather by somehow getting the former to the latter before Dementors get to him but not without disrupting what already happened. Mainly because we can’t, but now we have to be careful." She hazarded a look over her shoulder and added with less certainty, "And no, I have no idea what they're doing either, but it would appear that Lovegood is wearing a splotchy burlap sack for a purse and holding what appears to be a slab of meat. I’d say that’s outside even her eccentricity, so--"

"So," said Harry, his mind having caught up with the reality of the situation, "she's probably on some fool's errand to lure Buckbeak away herself."

Hermione beamed. "Precisely. Let's move."

 

###

 

"Here now, you great, magnificent, and possibly murderous creature," hissed Ginny as she bowed awkwardly. "We don't want to see you dead, so if you'd just... Maybe not eat us while I untie you?"

Buckbeak leveled his steely gaze at her as Luna dropped into a perfect slow curtsey.

"Greetings, esteemed friend Buckbeak. We brought you a snack. And freedom."

His attention turned on her, then on the glistening chunk of meat dangling from her hand, and he half stood, beak clacking in a way that reminded Ginny of smacking lips. She forced another smile and edged towards the hitching post.

"She's going to give you a nice, fat steak now because you are super great. And I'm going to just-- come untie you and then we're all going to run away, ok?" Ginny said, internally screaming at herself to just run the opposite way now. Still, Luna looked totally at ease and she couldn't very well leave her idiot Gryffindor alone.

"Hsst!" 

Ginny's head snapped around and she cringed internally at the feather flapping in response.

"Ginny!” Harry hissed. “Don't turn him loose! Bring his lead here!"

"Don't you worry, Buckbeak," soothed Luna. "That's just Harry. You remember Harry! I have no idea what he's doing out here but frankly he'll be in less trouble that we will if we're caught because there's very little he can't do and get away with."

"Oi!" Harry protested from just beyond the treeline, but a second voice whispered after it.

"Be that as it may, could you please bring Buckbeak here? We're... taking him somewhere safe."

Hermione, of course.

"Where's safer than the sky?" Ginny hissed back. "And what are you two doing out here?"

"Can we do this later, please?" Harry responded in kind, adding, "Ginny. Please. It's a matter of life and death. I swear."

Luna reached out to Buckbeak with another chunk of meat, and he snapped it up with a slurp, rising to his feet to investigate the girl with the snacks, attention diverted entirely from the direction of the hitching post.

 

“Fine. But this is on you, Potter,” Ginny hissed back as she crept towards the post. 

“Understood,” he agreed readily. “Thanks.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes, half-wondering what was so important and not for the first time why she was even here, but still too focused on not dying to give it her full attention. In her peripheral vision, she could see Luna now petting Buckbeak, holding what looked like a chicken breast. Ginny slowly untied the lead to the tune of his obscene gobbling sounds, and began to back towards Luna. 

“There you go,” Luna said with a beatific smile. “We’re going to walk you over to your friend Harry now, and then we’re going to run away, alright?” She tossed the sack with the remaining meat towards Harry and Hermione, causing Buckbeak to whip his head around to follow its trajectory. Luna, unfazed, patted the beast again as Ginny began to crab-walk in the same direction. “Good boy. Good luck! I hope to see you again!”

Buckbeak followed, seemingly unworriedly, and as soon as Ginny came close enough to toss the lead at Hermione, she did. His eyes were focused on the sack dangling from Harry’s grip.

“Potter. Granger,” said Ginny. “Don’t get killed. Or expelled.”

Hermione tilted her head at Ginny in bemusement and responded, “Same to you.”

“Oh, we’re alright,” said Luna sunnily, catching Ginny’s elbow. “We’ve got alibis!” Then, they broke and ran off through the cover of the trees, such as it was, and were gone. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of utter confusion, broken only by an insistent clack of Buckbeak’s beak, his pleading expression fixated on the ferret.

“I didn’t ask them to do _that_ ,” she said. Harry cocked his head, but decided to ask later.

“Come on, mate,” said Harry dangling it out for him. “I’ve got to introduce you to my godfather.”

 

###

Luna slipped a miniature sign out of her pocket that immediately began to enlarge into a full-size “Free the Care of Magical Creatures One” sign as she and Ginny managed to melt back into the crowd at the gate without incident.

“Oi, Freddy,” said George quietly. “Girls are back just in time.”

Fred nodded but said, “Been here all along, what are you talking about?”

“Alright, friends!” shouted George. “We’ve got three minutes to sunset and no one wants to be on McGonagall’s bad side on this one.”

His pronouncement was met with a chorus of groans and swears. A particularly crestfallen Anthony sighed and sniffed. 

“I feel terrible about this. I never wanted…”

“I know, mate,” said Fred, clapping Anthony’s shoulder.

“We’ve all done stupid things we wish we hadn’t,” added George with sincerity.

“The key is to try and only do stupid things that you’d be more sorry not to have done,” Fred said.

“Like this,” said George. His eyes darted to the far end of the hallway in the direction of a door slam. “And like how we’re leaving, right now.” 

“Go, go, go!” said Fred, shooing the various houses of students in the direction of the nearest staircase, regardless of where they ultimately should be. They ran off at high speed, disappearing just as Fred and George pulled the outer doors shut. Luna and Ginny were the only ones conspicuously leaving the area as professors McGonagall and Sprout arrived. McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the Weasley twins, but they spoke before she could, addressing the professors cheerfully. 

“We made sure that everyone stayed polite.”

“And we sent them packing off a few moments ago.”

“Like we swore we would.”

“Because Gryffindor pride would not allow us to do otherwise.”

“And can we say thank you once again for allowing our shenanigans, Professor.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll just see ourselves out.”

They headed towards the stairs, one twin waving while the other yanked him by the elbow. 

“Thanks.”

“Thanks again.”

Once they were out of sight, McGonagall turned her considerably weighty gaze on Professor Sprout, who burst into laughter. 

“Oh, Minerva. I have so much hope for this generation.”

 

###  
###

 

“I have family,” Harry said wonderingly. He was sprawled messily across his bed, staring at the ceiling of the third year dorms. “Actual family. I can’t believe it.”

“Mmhmm,” muttered Draco from his position cross-legged on his own bed, his quill scratching across a piece of parchment.

“He said I could come live with him one day.”

“Hmph,” muttered Draco, before holding up the parchment and reading from it, _“Potter has found that he sympathizes with Black’s cause, and this is the perfect opportunity to point out that the Dark Lord’s supporters indeed have the right ideas.”_

“Don’t you think your father knows Black isn’t actually a Death Eater?” asked Harry, sitting up from his 

“Maybe,” agreed Draco. “Probably. But we aren’t supposed to, so I’m playing dumb. It’d be the perfect opportunity to talk you into being sympathetic to the cause.” He looked up with a smirk. “Black’s family after all. And you’re just a dumb Hufflepuff.” 

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry said with a snort. “You’d know all about dumb Hufflepuffs.”

Draco lobbed a piece of balled-up parchment at Harry’s head, who batted it away negligently.

“It’s just. All this time. How could someone innocent spend thirteen years in Azkaban?” Harry wondered aloud. 

“It’s easy when someone behind the scenes has a vested interest in a scapegoat,” Draco huffed and read again. _“It’s easier than it should be, Father. He’s already agitated about how unfair it is that Black spent all that time in Azkaban. Potter’s actually glad that Black’s escaped.”_

Harry looked up, brow furrowed. “You’re disturbingly good at this, Malfoy.”

“Thanks!” Draco said brightly, but immediately returned to writing. “This mad scheme had better keep me out of Durmstrang. And alive long enough to enjoy it.”

“Add something about how I’m incensed that Buckbeak got away because of what he did to your arm and disrupting practice,” Harry suggested. “It’ll make me sound like more of a Hufflepuff.”

“Done,” muttered Draco, his quill scratching furiously. 

“But don’t go overboard.”

“Mmh.”

“Malfoy.”

“Hold up.”

“No, seriously,” said Harry. 

“What?” said Draco, narrowing his eyes at Harry, who paused in his contemplation of the aged ceiling to tilt his head at Draco.

“Is your father really buying this?” he asked, eyebrows knit in earnest, signature, Potter concern.

“Honestly?” Draco answered with a sigh. “No idea. But it’s what he wants, and so he’s probably going to overlook a lot for a while. As long as I’m mostly believable.”

Harry pondered this for a moment, then nodded once and went back to staring at the ceiling for a while before adding, “Say something about how you have to be careful because of my filthy Muggle upbringing.”

“Potter are you daft?” asked Draco, his tone haughty. “That was in my first owl.”

Harry snorted a laugh and threw an arm over his face. 

“Oh well, that’s alright then,” he said. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

 

###

 

“Did you hear?” said Hannah at breakfast one Saturday morning not too long after. She slumped into a seat she had manufactured by lifting Crookshanks out of the space between a very confused Hermione and Ron, and depositing him on Hermione’s lap. Vince and Greg followed suit by dropping on either side of Pansy and Neville with wide grins and already reaching for warm rolls. 

“Abbott, the sheer volume of gossip there is to hear at this very moment in our educational careers may never be eclipsed again,” said Hermione with a sigh. She skritched her cat and regarded Hannah. “What is it this time?”

Hannah smirked and took a bite of an apple. Greg volunteered, “Flint’s gone for good. His parents decided he didn’t need to come back.”

Hermione looked vaguely pained. “He brought that on himself. Davis and Brown are already back.” A fact with which she was well-acquainted, as were the heavy duty wards she’d placed on her bed, possessions, and cat.

“Good riddance, anyway,” said Ron dismissively. Harry looked up in feigned deep thought, then nodded in agreement. 

“Hold on--” said Draco. “They’ll need to replace him on the team.”

“Yeah, but their bench is deeply lacking,” said Harry. 

“Honestly, they’ve got to start Sorting in some talent--” said Ron, trailing off as he saw Ginny and a handful of very recognizable quidditch players joining the Slytherin table in a hail of animated chatter. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled.

“Huzzah, Weasley Youngest!” shouted Luna from her spot at the Gryffindor table, unselfconsciously applauding with fervor, though she was the only one.

“Yep,” nodded Hannah. “That’s what I’d heard.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at his little sister just two tables over, who took a moment to lock eyes with him and smirk. 

“Hear she’s good Chasing,” said Hannah, nonchalantly eating her fruit. “But that she’s an even better Seeker. Not better than me, of course. But good.”

“Slytherin won’t let a second-year Seek, full stop. No matter how good she is,” said Draco with a frown. 

“And she’s only just joined,” added Harry. “They’ll need a few weeks to work her into the team.”

“Malfoy, Potter?” said Hannah with a confused look, “Isn’t Hufflepuff/Slytherin match next week?”

A handful of owls swept through the Hall, dropping letters and packages. A tiny, scraggly, wild-eyed owl and a giant, recognizable eagle owl dropped letters for Harry and Draco respectively. The giant owl flew off immediately, while the tiny owl landed on Harry’s shoulder, looked confused, hopped to Draco, remained confused, hopped across and landed on Ron before finally loosing a happy ‘hoot’ and beginning to groom the hair on the back of his neck. They all eyed the letters with suspicion. Ron carefully disentangled the owl and peered at it in his hands, while Hannah and Pansy made little “eep” and “coo” sounds about how cute it was. Crookshanks eyed it with calm interest.

“How bad could it be?” muttered Draco as he opened his own missive. “He sent it at breakfast.”

“Wh--?” Harry also muttered, turning over the envelope and peering at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Draco scoffed aloud and held the parchment out for Harry to see. 

_I had thought you lost to that abomination of a house, but I am gratified to see you may yet find your way. Do not stray again. Your mother sends her love._

Harry grinned crookedly. “I’m brilliant.” 

“Hardly,” Draco said with an eyeroll. “This is all my doing.”

“If you don’t mind, Harry,” said Ron, who was now being nibbled on by the adorable little creature he held. “Why?”

Harry’s attention snapped back to his own post, and he scanned the two letters enclosed. His face brightened exponentially as he looked from one to the other. 

“I have permission go to Hogsmeade!” he said with excitement. “And that owl is yours, Ron.”

“Huh?” said Ron with unnecessarily comic confusion.

“My godfather,” Harry said, savoring the phrase. “Sent him as a conciliatory gesture.”

Ron looked surprised, then thoughtful, then nodded and held the owl out towards Crookshanks. “Okay. Manky cat, what’s your verdict?”

The owl tilted his head to peer at the large orange cat, who sniffed it delicately, then licked the side its face from bottom to top and settled back down. There was a very high-pitched chorus of squeals, at least one of which came from either Vince or Greg, but no one present was about to make comment in that regard.

“Done,” said Ron with satisfaction. Hermione opened and shut her mouth, but decided in the end to just beam. At her cat, mainly.

As though on cue, Cedric broke from where he’d been standing in deep conversation with Oliver and clapped his hands briskly.

“Bloody hell,” groaned Harry and Draco in concert, to which Harry added under his breath, “Weren’t supposed to start ‘till ten.”

“Team!” Cedric said as he approached the table with enthusiasm. “Pitch. Ten minutes.” His hands landed heavily on his star chasers, but he leaned in across them to address Ron instead. “Your sister. What can you tell me about her?”

“She’s a mean little witch,” Ron shrugged. “You’re definitely buggered.”

Cedric’s hands turned into grapples as he hauled the boys up. Fortunately they’d already been in the process of standing.

“Straight to the Pitch, it is.”

Slytherin still didn’t stand a chance.


End file.
